Xia Feng passed the top of the forest, and the shutters of the heart were ringing with a pungent cicada.
Surrounded by buildings like the reinforced concrete forest in the city all day, the so-called "plum is golden and apricot is fat, wheat is white and cauliflower is sparse", or "bamboo shakes the shadow in the secluded window, birds make noise every two days-"and such a midsummer scene can only be found in ancient poems. At the moment, it's hard for us to understand and savor. Only * * * is like a Buddha, listening to black singers tirelessly singing in the rolling world of mortals.
Cicada chirps across the top of the forest from the tip of the grass, like a breeze across the water, and becomes beautiful and curved in the place of * * *, leaving a long string of bitterness.
The hive of the mind vibrates with the sound of melody. This black elf should have emerged from Bourgogne's G string, escaped from Debussy's F minor, crossed the deep time and space, and met here, right?
This disturbing stunner, somehow, with a super audio tremor, brought the code in the abyss of history, and that long song led my thoughts to the distant Tang Dynasty.
I seem to see a prisoner named Wang Luobin, who is being held in Chang 'an prison. This bookworm used to be an official in Chang 'an, a historian, dissatisfied with women being emperors, and frequently wrote articles satirizing Wu Zetian, saying that "the beauty of moths can confuse people, but it can confuse the Lord", and he was put in limbo for three years in Yifeng, Tang Gaozong. Outside the big wall in the west, there are several ancient pagodas with lush foliage. Every summer and autumn, when the sun is low and overcast, there is always a chilling sound in the tree, which makes this talented person, who was named as one of the "four outstanding figures in the early Tang Dynasty", feel ups and downs and cry, so he wrote a poem:
Cicadas sing in the west, and guests think of the south.
However, it needs those songs with black wings to break the heart of a white-haired prisoner.
His flight passed through the thick fog, and his pure voice was drowned in the world of wind.
Who knows if he is still singing? Who will listen to me? ?
A narcissistic scholar's mentality without talent has spread through cicadas and has been passed down to this day. This summer afternoon, cicadas are everywhere, which reminds me of this gloomy poem and the talented person who uses cicadas as a metaphor.
Perhaps the image of Lulu, a cold food, is easy to remind people of wandering poets, so in the eyes of the ancients, cicadas are always inseparable from poverty and sorrow. Wang Luobin's "A Political Prisoner Listening to Cicada" and the early Tang Dynasty were overturned by an unexpected breeze outside the window, and Fan Chengda in the Southern Song Dynasty came again.
Fan bid farewell to his friends on the ancient sunset road, but was suddenly held up by cicadas, and a new rhyme blurted out:
Broken corners, the setting sun touches sadness, and the pavilion scratches its head late.
There is a cicada in the world that I hate the most, sending all pedestrians to send all autumn.
For Mr. Fan, a long cry of chilling has become an emotional harassment.
It seems that the cicadas received by modern people are not as harsh as those received by their predecessors, especially those living in downtown areas. After being bombarded by human voices, cars and machinery day after day, no matter how nice the cicada sounds, it can't hurt people's numb nerves. When the sounds of nature are drifting away from us, people even use mechanical copying to simulate the sounds of nature. I once heard a music product called Nature, in which the cicada sound is dry and difficult to understand, which is far from the natural sound.
Surprisingly, Fabres, a French writer who is famous for his 10 volume Memoirs of Insects, seems to have an ambivalent attitude towards cicadas. Reading his entomology, I don't understand this sentence:
Every summer, cicadas will appear outside my door in the shade of two tall Japanese hanging trees. From sunrise to sunset, the harsh music makes my head dizzy. This deafening ensemble, this endless noise, simply makes people unable to think.
Although the chorus of cicadas always enters the eardrum through the wall all summer, I have never felt Fabres's hesitation, but I am grateful for this gift from nature.
In my impression, cicada and Zen always go hand in hand, perhaps this is the association caused by homophonic. Soaking in the world of mortals all day, the reflection and understanding of Zen will provide me with a space for spiritual rest. This upward state of combining China's philosophy with Indian practice will help me understand the truth of life, cross the sea of life and death, and return my soul to purity and peace.
For example, on a rare afternoon in summer, I will make a pot of top-grade West Lake Longjing, pick up a random book and read it casually in the tea. This book may be Wang Wei's Wang Youcheng Collection, Shen Fu's Six Chapters of a Floating Life, or Li Yu's Random Thoughts. Of course, the Zen prose of Lin Qingxuan, Taiwan Province Province, or the East Bridge anthology of Hong Kong East Bridge will also be in your hand. When you are sleepy, you can lean back on the bamboo chair by the window, close your eyes slightly, and listen to cicadas singing like Sanskrit and curling in the sunset ... >>
A beautiful sentence describing cicada, urgent! ! ! Ancient poems:
chant
Author: Luo
Cicadas sing in the west, and guests think of the south.
I can't stand the shadow on my temple to break the heart of a white-haired prisoner.
His flight passed through the thick fog, and his pure voice was drowned in the world of wind.
Who knows if he is still singing? Who will listen to me? ?
Modern American writing:
When the weather is hot, cicadas can always be heard all day long. There are many trees in the small garden, so there are many cicadas, so it is annoying to weave a symphony. The hotter the weather, the noisier the cicada. They made trouble early in the morning until sunset. Listen to their voices, as if they were calling "cicada! Know! " So cicada's nickname is cicada. But I don't know what they know every day Zhou Shoujuan: A trip to Suzhou.
Some people hate cicadas. The hotter the weather, the bigger the sun, the more sleepy at noon, and the stronger the cicada, which objectively plays a hypnotic role, so it is called "lazy boy". ..... Cicadas are not short jumps like frogs, but long, high-pitched and persistent like erhu. Therefore, in the summer village Symphony Orchestra, if frogs are drummers, cicadas are stringed instruments. Imagine: when the branches are still in the sky in the hot summer, even geese and ducks gather in the shade, how lonely it would be without the high-pitched performance of this stringed instrument player! Li: Three insects in summer.
In the mountains, only cicadas are heard every day, not as good as birds. It was very hot at that time, even in the mountains, it was not cool. At noon, I was lying on the rattan couch in front of the porch, trying to catch my breath, but I saw the tops of bamboo trees all over the mountain, motionless, and the flowers and plants standing quietly under my feet, as if the old monk were in a trance. Fans and the like can't be obtained, so I have to keep wiping my sweat with towels and waving paper fans. At this time, there are often a few cicadas singing outside the sill. I closed my eyes and listened quietly. They were high and low, intermittent, singing the same song, as if it were a large array of beautiful music, where the heat seemed to decrease. Then, I fell asleep in a daze and felt nothing. For a long time, I woke up with cicadas all over my body. Zheng Zhenduo: Cicada and Weaver Girl.
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Cicada related sentences 1, Cicada has been playing music all his life. It is so small but so loud. It has been ringing all summer. Although he only has more than 90 days to live, he never gives up.
2. Cicada explains the heat in summer and tells the inner complexity. On this hot night, I am sorting out my confused thoughts. ...
Cicada likes singing very much. There is a cymbal-like instrument in the cavity behind its wings. That's not enough. We need to put a castanet on the chest to increase the intensity of the sound.
Sentences describing the appearance of cicadas, or describe them to me. Color, wings, figure, etc. 1. It is indeed a cicada, a light green cicada, and a cicada that has just shed its skin. Its limbs are still soft, with a pair of transparent thin wings, but two eyes the size of black rice grains can't turn, and its mouth is like a needle-like straw, a vivid elf.
Cicada has six legs, two bright eyes and a yellow hard shell. When flying, it showed snow-white skin and thin wings, and soon flew into the sky.
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