The world of mortals dreams of everything, because I love you. Reading can bring people rich knowledge and incomparable happiness. Reading a good book is like making a good friend and talking to a wise man. Next, let's enjoy all the dreams in the world of mortals, because I love your beautiful prose.
The world of mortals has a dream because I love you. It's snowing and it's very cold. My heart is torn by this cold wind and thrown into the distance. In the clear moonlight, pain becomes sad.
With thoughts, you walk slowly in the silence of the moonlit night, and your heart beats feebly like this wave, gasping and sometimes growling, making the silent night roll up. Step by step, the heavy footprints are the anxiety of expectation and the bitterness of hope.
At the moment when the memory comes in, the heart doesn't allow itself to exist. It keeps the sadness in its heart, takes a sigh and turns low in the fragrance of sadness. I can only make up for my empty heart with the sweetness of happiness mixed with pain, and then precipitate all the sadness and glory, and let my dream run aground in the deep blue. ...
Facing the waves, I don't want to pour out my sadness. I just want to finish a bleak look in this silent moonlight. Don't let this loneliness torment my heart. Because I miss you too tired and bitter, I really want your shadow to fade with the passage of time and become a distance. However, the lingering love and thoughts are still so strong that people can't let go, just like that charming dream has stopped in my brow.
Standing in the cold wind of hunting, filtering my thoughts against the night sky in haggard, desolate and sweet, how much suffering and sadness, the love of three generations, singing together in the dusk, are all ripples of dreams. Dream of you, my heart is warm, I miss you, and my eyes are sour. I am attached to the attached hands and thick shoulders that hold me in my arms, because I am a drunken water lily blooming on your chest. Dormant in the depths of the season, let the pain wander in the body and miss you in the depths of pain.
The cold wind blew gently, disturbing the rolling heart and breaking the long silence. You are my pain in the heart valley, suffering in the sad waiting, counting the loneliness on my temples in the waiting. Let me shed tears of expectation on the way waiting for you, waiting for you to rush through loneliness, break through the thick fog, fill an empty heart with a sigh, and let tears flow with your name.
It's all just because I love you. I can only let my thoughts gallop, tread the sorrow of floating clouds, tread the hidden pain of starry rain, tread the bitterness of dusk and weave my dreams.
The world of mortals has a dream because I love you. Xu Zhimo once said, "The courtyard is quiet, and I hope the first month will be good." A kind of peace is like a clear spring flowing in my heart.
In the early years, my mother planted persimmon trees in the yard, but now they are flourishing and graceful. It stands on the clear Luting River, playing the moon on the screen, which is comfortable and charming. In summer, leaves cover the sun. In autumn, green persimmons turn golden yellow. In the first frost, they turn from orange to red. The red persimmons covered with trees are smiling brightly, and the red lanterns are shining in the farmyard, which makes autumn particularly enchanting.
Every Mid-Autumn Festival, my mother will pick the semi-ripe persimmons and cook them, then give them to neighbors and relatives in the autumn posture, and then let the family taste the rest. Mother always smiles at persimmon trees, just like staring at her children and grandchildren, with strange brilliance in her eyes.
We happily peeled off the persimmon skin and put it on our mouth. With a gentle breath, the persimmon juice entered our mouth, which was soft, sweet, moist and slippery. The soft core hidden in the depths of the stomach is smooth and soft, and it tastes delicious and tender, and the taste buds immediately fall into a delicious swamp.
The autumn rain is raining, and the red and yellow persimmon leaves swirl all over the ground, as if it were a freehand brushwork of autumn. Persimmons come from Harrison more and more sparsely, but the remaining persimmons are redder and brighter, with a simple and warm breath, just like the mother's breath.
"Walnuts are beaten for a thousand years, and persimmons are picked at the first frost." Some persimmons are tied to very high branches, looking stubbornly at the branches, burning like fire in color, especially striking, like auspicious lights, illuminating the loneliness and sadness in late autumn. Liu Yuxi wrote in the poem "Singing Red Persimmons": "The morning star shines and the sun hangs at night. This situation is described as "the years of self-protection".
The persimmon cooked by my mother is very sweet and fragrant. Firstly, the persimmon with golden color and thin yellow calyx is selected, the outer hard skin is removed, and the stem skin close to the calyx plate and fruit stalk is retained. Then put the peeled persimmon fruit stand in the yard and expose it to the sun, and then gently knead it into a flat circle by hand. Before and after the first frost, put the persimmon in the shade, so that the sugar of the persimmon overflows and frost appears on the surface. Have a taste, the meat is fat and sweet.
Whenever the sunset glows red in the sky, the twilight is cool and happy. The family sat around Sang Mu's desk in the yard, peeling fresh water chestnuts and gorgons, and tasting persimmon cakes made by their mother. The whole yard was filled with the faint fragrance of persimmons. The autumn night in the yard is particularly quiet and beautiful, and the dense persimmon leaves are reflected on the ground by moonlight, which is a simple sketch. Kindness and warmth in the small courtyard spread quietly, as long as a flute.
Now my wife is good at making soft fried persimmons. Peel the persimmon and mash it into persimmon sauce. Then add flour and stir well to form orange wet dough. Mix jujube paste, nuts and black sesame powder as stuffing. Finally, wrap the stuffing in dough, flatten it, and fry it in oil pan until golden brown. We ate so delicious that we couldn't bear to eat chopsticks.
Persimmon, with bright color and delicious taste, has won the love of literati in past dynasties: Bai Juyi in Tang Dynasty was known as "persimmon trees are green and shady, and the royal courtyard is wide"; In the Tang Dynasty, Li Yi left a famous sentence: "Persimmon leaves are red and frosty in autumn, and the sky is like water leaning against the red chamber." In Qing Dynasty, Cha loved to eat persimmon: "The teeth must be soft and the throat must be moist and empty".
Qi Baishi, a master of Chinese painting, likes to paint persimmons, because it is homophonic with "things, the world and the city", which means auspiciousness. Persimmons are painted without bones, while Ye Jin and branches are understated, highlighting persimmons in leaves. This painting is full of composition and warm colors, showing a festive and optimistic mood.
Persimmon red is gentle and beautiful in ordinary civilian life. The small courtyard in the moonlight is unrestrained and enchanting in a shallow time. Like a red lantern, stirring the quiet and noisy days. Let the autumn in my hometown gurgle, and let us regain the poetry, aestheticism, simplicity and tranquility left in the depths of the years.