~ famous writers ~ articles describing snow, except Lu Xun's snow! #83

Winter in Jinan Author: Lao She For a person who is used to living in Beiping, it is a miracle that it doesn't blow in winter; There is no wind in winter in Jinan. For a person who has just returned from London, it is strange that I can't see the sun in winter; Jinan is sunny in winter. Naturally, in tropical places, the sun is always so poisonous, so loud and a little scary. However, in winter in the north of China, Jinan is really a treasure house with warm and sunny weather. If there is only sunshine, it is not surprising. Please close your eyes and think about it: an ancient city with mountains and water is basking in the sun, sleeping warmly and comfortably, just waiting for the spring breeze to wake them up. Is this an ideal realm? The mountain completely surrounds Jinan, except for the lack of some food in the north. This circle of hills is particularly lovely in winter, as if Jinan were put in a small cradle. They whispered, "Don't worry, it will be warm here." Really, people in Jinan laugh in winter. As soon as they saw those hills, they felt that they had landed and leaned over. When they saw the mountains from the sky, they unconsciously thought, "Tomorrow may be spring, right? With such warmth, the grass may turn green tonight? " Even this fantasy can't be realized for a while, and they don't worry, because what can they expect in this charity winter? Best of all, it snowed a little. You see, the dwarf pine on the mountain is getting darker and darker, and there is a bun of white flowers on the top of the tree, like a Japanese wet nurse. The top of the mountain is all white, and there is a silver edge on the blue sky. On the hillside, there is thick snow in some places, and grass color is still exposed in some places; In this way, one is white, the other is dark yellow, and the mountain is covered with a floral dress with water patterns; Looking at it, this floral dress seems to be blown by the wind, which makes you want to see more beautiful goatskin. When the sun goes down, the yellowish sunshine is obliquely sprinkled on the hillside, and the Bo Xue seems to suddenly blush with shame, showing a little pink. It's just a light snow. Jinan can't stand heavy snow. Those hills are so fragile! Ancient Jinan, the city is so narrow and spacious. There are some small villages lying on the hillside, and there is some snow on the roofs of the small villages. Yes, this is a small ink painting, probably painted by a famous painter in the Tang Dynasty. What about water? It did not freeze, but steamed on the green duckweed. Seaweed is really green, and all the green stored all the year round is taken out. The clearer the sky, the greener the algae. With these green spirits, the water can't bear to freeze, and those weeping willows with long branches will take a picture in the water! Look, slowly rising from the clear river, the sky, mid-air and sky are so clear and blue from top to bottom, and the whole is an ethereal blue crystal. In this crystal, there are red roofs and yellow grass hills, like small gray shadows of flowers on the carpet; This is Jinan in winter.

2. Snow in the sunshine (Yu)

In ancient China, once a scholar, he didn't have a full view. The outstanding feature of civil servants lies in official positions, not in literature. As a scholar, they are not satisfied in officialdom. However, things are strange. When the Hubei official's belt has already been scattered into mud, a poem occasionally drawn by a bamboo pen can actually engrave mountains and rivers, engrave people's hearts and never wander.

I once had the opportunity to look up at Bai Di City in the boat on the river at dusk, climb the Yellow Crane Tower in the thick autumn frost, and touch Hanshan Temple in the winter night. There are many people around me, and almost all of them are full of poems that don't need to be quoted. People come to look for scenery as well as poetry. They can recite these poems when they are young. The children's imagination is sincere and realistic. So these cities, these buildings, these temples are all built in their own hearts. When they are old, when they just realize that their feet are enough, they are also burdened with heavy debts and eagerly look forward to visiting the poetic realm. For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable reasons. Sometimes, this longing is like looking for the lost hometown and visiting the lost relatives.

The magic of literati can turn such a small corner of the world into a hometown in everyone's heart. What magic is hidden in their faded blue shirts?

Today, I went to Yangguan to watch Wang Wei's Song of Besieged City. Before I left, I asked the old man in the county where I lived. The answer is: "It's a long way to go in Xiu Yuan. There's nothing to see, but some literati have worked hard to find it." The old man looked up at the sky and said, "It will snow for a while. Don't suffer this. " I bowed to him and turned and got into the snow.

Once out of the small county, it is desert. There is nothing but snow, not even a wrinkle can be found. When traveling in other places, always find yourself a goal at each road section, stare at a tree and then stare at a stone. Here, I can't see a target with my eyes open, even a dead leaf and a black spot. So, I have to look up at the sky. I have never seen such a complete sky, and it has not been swallowed up at all. The edges are quite scattered and the earth is tightly covered. There is a place where genius is called heaven. On such a day, the earth is called the earth. Walking alone in such a world, the dwarf becomes a giant. Walking alone in such a world, the giant has become a dwarf.

As a result, it cleared up, the wind stopped and the sun cleared up. I didn't expect the snow in the desert to melt so quickly. Just for an instant, the ground was full of sand, but there were no wet marks. A few wisps of smoke gradually floated out on the horizon, stopped moving and deepened. I wondered for a long time before I found that it was a ridge that had just melted snow.

The bumps on the ground have become a shocking exposition, and there can only be one understanding: they are tombs of distant times.

It's far from the county seat, and it's unlikely to be the burial place of city people. These tombs were eroded by the wind and snow, and collapsed with age, thin and depressed. Obviously, no one has ever offered sacrifices to sweep them away. Why are there so many and arranged so closely? There can only be one understanding: this is an ancient battlefield.

I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is the wasteland of China history: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The loving mother in the Central Plains has white hair, the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, and the children in Hunan cry at night. Farewell to my hometown in Liu Yin, the general glared at me and hunted military flags in the north wind. With a puff of smoke, another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that when the deceased died, they all faced the enemy lines in northern New York. I believe that they really want to look back at the last minute and take a look at the familiar land. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.

I wonder if this starry sand pile was exchanged by historians for half a line of ink? Historians turned over the documents one by one, so the land was buried layer by layer. A 25-year-old mountain, written on this wasteland, is quite glorious, because it is, after all, a remote area of the kingdoms of past dynasties and has long been responsible for defending the territory of China. So these sand piles are more comfortable to stand on, and these pages can rattle. Just like the dry, cold and monotonous land, the historical proposition of the northwest frontier is relatively simple. In the Central Plains, it is different. The mountains are heavy and the waters are complex. The maze of years will make the clearest mind faint, and the sound of the morning bell and the evening drum is always so secretive and surly. There, there is no such casual sand pile, everything is stuffy in the beautiful scenery, and countless ghosts who died for no reason can only dive deep into the ground in grief and regret. Unlike here, I can show a dry history and let me touch it with the pace of the 20th century. There are shadows in the distance. In a hurry, there is water under the tree and sand has high and low slopes. Climbing a slope, I suddenly looked up and saw a bare mound on the mountain not far away. I am intuitively convinced that this is a sunshine pass.

More and more trees and houses began to appear. That's right, where the important pass is, the military forces will be stationed there, and we can't do without these. Turn a few corners, then go straight to a sand slope, climb to the bottom of the mound, look around, there is a monument nearby, engraved with the words "Yangguan Ancient Site".

This is a commanding height overlooking the four fields. The northwest wind thundered in Wan Li and came straight. After a few steps, it stopped. My feet stopped, but I clearly heard the chattering of my teeth. My nose must be red with cold soon. Oh, take a breath of hot air into your palm, cover your ears and jump a few times before you settle down and open your eyes. The snow here hasn't melted yet, but it won't. There is no trace of the so-called ancient site, only the nearby beacon tower is still there, and this is the mound just seen below. Most of the mounds have collapsed, and you can see layers of sediment, layers of reeds and reeds flying out, trembling in the cold wind after thousands of years. At present, it is a mountain in the northwest, all covered with snow, layered and reaching the sky. Anyone standing here will feel that he is standing on a rock by the sea. Those mountains are frozen oceans and waves.

Wang Wei is really gentle to the extreme. For such a Yangguan, the bottom of his pen still does not show the color of fierce terror, but writes in a lingering and elegant way: "I advise you to make more wine, and there is no reason to go out to Yangguan in the west." He glanced at the green willow color outside the window of the Acropolis Guest House, looked at his friend's packed bags, and smiled and raised the hip flask. Have another drink, and you'll never find an old friend who can talk about wine like this outside the sun. This cup of wine, friends must not refuse, drink it off.

This is the demeanor of the Tang Dynasty. Most of them will not cry and lament, but will discourage them. Their vision is far away and their life path is wide. Parting is frequent and the steps are open. This style, in Li Bai, Gao Shi, Cen Can there, glow more heroic. Among the ancient statues in the north and south, the statues of the Tang people can be recognized at a glance, with such strong bodies, calm eyes and confident spirit. When you see Mona Lisa's smile in Europe, you can feel it immediately. This serene self-confidence belongs only to those artists who really wake up from the nightmare of the Middle Ages and are quite sure of their future. The smile in the statue of the Tang Dynasty will only be more calm and serene. In Europe, these artists have been making a big noise for a long time, stubbornly trying to convey their smiles to the soul of history. Anyone can figure out how many years after the Tang Dynasty. But in the Tang Dynasty, it did not extend the confidence of artists for a long time. The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad.

Wang Wei's poems and paintings are unique, and the boundary between poetry and painting, which has been repeatedly discussed by western philosophers such as Lessing, is now within his reach. However, the palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists, allowing them to bend down as humble attendants to create a little entertainment. The old man in history stood in awe, turned and left, trembling and went to the genealogy of the three emperors and five emperors again. Here, there is no need for art to make a big fight, and there is no need to have too deep sustenance for beauty.

As a result, Kyushu's painting style is gloomy. Yangguan, it is no longer difficult to enjoy warm and mellow poems. There are still some scholars who left Yangguan in the west, but most of them have become officials and ministers.

Even mounds and stone towns can't stand the blowing of so many sighs, and Yangguan collapses and falls into the spiritual territory of a nation. Will eventually become a ruin, a wasteland. Behind him, sand graves are like tides, and in front of him, cold peaks are like waves. No one can imagine that here, 1000 years ago, the grandeur of life and the vastness of artistic feelings were verified.

There should be several voices of Hu Jia and Qiangdi here. The timbre is extremely beautiful, harmonious with nature and fascinating. Unfortunately, it has become the sad voice of the soldiers. Since a nation can't bear to hear it, they disappear in the north wind.

Go home, it's getting late. I'm afraid it will snow again.

3. It snows in my world (Chi Zijian)

I like to go back to my hometown because here, my eyes, my heart and my feet have an ideal place to walk. It only takes three to five minutes from my bedroom to the scenic spot I described. I usually choose to go for a walk at dusk. Go from north to south, or take the dam or walk along the river bank. If you walk on the dam, you will meet the old man who drives the sheep home. Those sheep are walking on the gentle slope of the dam, but they still can't bear to go back to the fence. I often see an old woman coming back from releasing ducks. Her flock of black ducks is led by two big white geese. The big white goose walked proudly ahead with its neck held high, and countless black ducks followed with their heads down. I prefer walking along the river bank to the dam. I like the rolling sunset in the river. The most beautiful place at sunset is the river. The sunset in the water is more brilliant than the sunset itself. Of course there are mountains and rivers, water and willows. People feel that the water surface is just a painting, dotted with sunset, trees, clouds and breeze. The breeze renders the picture with water waves. When the breeze wrinkles the river, those turbulent water waves will crush the projection of sunset, clouds and trees on the river, so that the color of the water surface will be stripped off in an instant, giving it a three-dimensional effect, which looks like a famous modernist painting. I like to see this picture, so if there is no breeze to help, the water is calm, I will bend down and pick up some pebbles and throw them into the river, and then the painting in the water will suddenly change. I will sit on the beach and watch quietly for a while. Of course, I dare not sit for a long time, not for fear that the gloomy chill of the river beach will erode me, but for fear that those mosquitoes will buzz around me in an endless stream. I don't want to eat my own blood for their dinner.

Tired of writing in the study, as long as you look up, the mountains will come into view. It is said that green hills are pleasing to the eye, and winter snow and white mountains are also pleasing to the eye. Baishan looks like a white elephant falling from the sky. Of course, you can also enjoy watching the flying clouds from the window. Clouds change not only in shape but also in color. It was a thick cloud of lead and gray just now. It floats, splits into several boat-shaped clouds, and the color becomes bright white. If the sky is a blank sheet of paper, clouds are the ink splashed here. This kind of ink is sometimes thick and sometimes light, which shows that Yun is full of exploration spirit in painting.

Whether it is winter or summer, if the moonlight is sultry, I will turn off the bedroom lights, open the curtains and lie in bed to enjoy the moon. Moonlight permeates the room through the window lattice, and warm white light illuminates the bed. Bathed in the moonlight, I have a graceful feeling of walking in the clouds. In the past Mid-Autumn Festival, I lay in bed enjoying the moon. It was cloudy that day. During the day, it rained a little cold. In the afternoon, the first light snow in early winter came quietly. Seeing snowflakes flying in the air like butterflies, I think the moon must be invisible at night. However, at about seven o'clock, the moon suddenly showed several lights in the clouds in the east, as if to make a sign for its grand debut at midnight. After eight o'clock, the clouds are thin, and the moon rolling in the clouds will show its true colors in an instant. At nine o'clock, the huge clouds flying from southwest to northeast crossed the Milky Way like a million troops, most of them disappeared, and the moon appeared perfectly. Perhaps after the baptism of rain and snow during the day, it is particularly clear. I lay in bed, looked at it, bathed in its silky light, and felt the beautiful time patting my forehead, which made me feel extremely warm and happy. After a while, another batch of clouds appeared, but they were very thin clouds. They seem to be colorful clothes specially prepared for the moon, because when they surround the moon, the moon shines colorful halos on white clouds with its heart, and colorful clouds appear one after another. At this time, the moon looks like a huge tangerine, which makes people feel full of sweet fragrance. At midnight, the clouds disappeared completely, and the bright moon rising to the zenith was like falling into a lake. The sky looked bluer than the clear sky during the day. This Mid-Autumn Moon, which has experienced wind and rain, frost and snow, is really hard to get. After seeing such a moon, all dreams were bright that night.

I still remember that on the second day of the first month of 2002, my wife and I were invited to dinner at my brother's house in the west of the city. Instead of taking a bus from the city, we got on the dam and walked around the town. It snowed that day, and the weather after the snow is usually warmer, as if snowflakes resisted the cold current with their weak bodies. There were no pedestrians on the dam, just the two of us, walking hand in hand through the snow without saying a word. The mountains are blurred in the snow, and the river under the dam has disappeared and is covered with thick snow and ice. The willows and poplars on the river bank are hazy in the snow, and the sky and the earth look so boundless and kind. Walking, I suddenly shed tears, knowing that it is unlucky to cry during the New Year, but I can't help it. That incomparable beauty breeds my sadness. Three months later, my lover left me. When I returned to my hometown that winter, I was the only one walking on the snow dam. At that time, I suddenly understood why I shed tears that day, because the world is hinting at me that that beautiful emotion will leave you, and you will always be surrounded by this eternal desolation!

Fortunately, the green hills and flowing water are still there, the willow poplars are still there, and the bright moon is still there. My eyes and mind have a shelter, and my pen has the most emotional contact. So I still like to take a walk at dusk, watch the sunset in the water, see the fallen leaves in the wind and see the mountains in the snow. I am not afraid of getting old, because I want the moonlight to blend with my hair when it turns white. Let the moonlight distinguish between moonlight and white hair; I can't tell whether it is white hair or moonlight growing on my head.

One night a few days ago, I had a dream about heavy snow. I came to a snowy place alone, with houses everywhere, but I couldn't see anyone on the road. Only snowflakes rolled in the air. Snowflakes slapped my face, so cool, so moist and so kind. When I woke up, it was dark outside the window. I recalled that no matter which season of the year, I would have a dream about snowflakes, even if the birds and flowers were singing outside the window. It seems that my surroundings are destined to be a cold and sad, romantic and cold world. My heart moved, eager to write a line on white paper. I reached for the bedside lamp, but it didn't turn on. I must have lost power at night. I turned on my mobile phone, grabbed a pen by the dim light, wrote the words that best expressed my thoughts and feelings on a piece of typing paper, and then went back to bed to continue my dream.

That sentence is: it snows in my world.

Yes, it snows in my world. ...