The anchor reads the classics and accompanies you to say goodnight. Hello everyone, here is lightning night reading, I am Yucheng Rong Media anchor Chen Shuai. Tonight to share with you is the essay of writer Ding Limei, "In this world, there are endless red flowers and green grasses" that I can't see."
Sit down with a few friends and chat about happiness. The spring outside the window has gone deep, and the leaves on the trees have long been changed from tender green to green. The flowers of the world are crackling and blooming happily. It's roses. It's begonias. It's the season. It's Yu Meiren. My eyes never wanted to leave the window, and I said that at this moment, at the moment when the flowers were green, I felt happy again.
My friends listened, laughed together, and asked me, "Have you really never had any trouble?"
I thought about it and honestly replied, "Yes, but I don't have time to complain."
Yes, I'm too late. Every day, I have to greet my plants, the roses and begonias, hydrangeas and ciders on the balcony of the house. They bloom a few flowers a day and smoke a few leaves, I know. Especially the pot of hydrangeas, in winter, its leaves fell bare, thin branches, showing a withered appearance. The family mistakenly thought it was dead and threw it aside. One day, at its roots, a few small brown buds unexpectedly appeared, like the newly grown teeth of a baby. Within a few days, the buds slowly opened, and from the inside, green stems and leaves were drawn out, and it was a pot of lively youth. Life is so magical, after thousands of turns, it can always usher in the bright.
There are many plants on the side of the road. When I walk by, I always say hello to them. That's a luan tree. That's paulownia. That's a locust tree. That's Ziwei. That's magnolia. They pluck branches, grow leaves, blossom, bear fruit, all year round, like people, busy, not wasting any day. Looking down, in the dirt on the side of the road, there are always surprises waiting for me, dandelions, mother-in-law, a long bush of dog tails. They evoke many memories of my hometown, about my childhood. They allow me to see the path I came from, no matter how far I went, no matter how long I walked, I would not be lost.
I also miss a grass on the roof of my neighbor's house. When something is okay, I will stand at the window and look at it, like thinking about someone. It was a seed from a bird, or it was blown down by the wind. The grass did not care, and the grass accepted this fate and made a home among the corrugated roofs. From a distance, it looked like a big green bird with wings outstretched, and I always felt that it was about to fly. The neighbor has two bungalows, a husband and a wife. With a little boy, he also had a yellow and white puppy. The couple both came from other places to work in the small town, and under the sky of the foreign country, they met, fell in love, and then settled down in this small town and began their fireworks life. Watching them come and go, followed by a cute little boy and a puppy shaking its head, I was inexplicably moved, they had a grass-like spirit.
Birds chirped over here, here, over there. They are in green trees. Among the flowers and plants. On my roof. I smiled and listened, wanting to hear what the birds were singing. The birds are the most rhythmic. I enjoy this natural sound every day, and people become clean and dusty. There were also birds coming to the windowsill of my study, and there were little sparrows. Northerners call it the house finches, which means spoiled in it. They bounced on my windowsill. What's on the windowsill? There was nothing but grass clippings blown by the wind. But birds are happy. - Happiness doesn't need a reason.
The moon rose, clear and bright. At this time, I always don't want to miss it, and I have to go to the bottom of the moon for a while. The trees on the side of the road have become dignified and virtuous, and everyone is like a bridesmaid. The moonlight sifted through the shadows of the trees and projected them onto a nearby pink wall. On the powder wall, ink is poured out of one "ink painting". Trees, houses, people, vividly in the painting. I looked at the past one by one and poured out examples for it. The moon can be painted. This discovery made me rejoice for several days.
In my spare time, I read a Zen poem by Zen Master Wumen: "There are a hundred flowers in spring, there are moons in autumn, and there are cool breezes in summer and snow in winter." If there is no idleness to worry about, it is a good time on earth. "I'm done, and I've made him known. In this world, there are endless red flowers and green grasses that I can't see, there are gentle and melodious that I can't hear endlessly, there are people and things that I can't finish reading, bit by bit, all are dust and joy, I am happy but happy, where is there time to complain?
About the Author
Ding Limei, writer, from Dongtai, Jiangsu Province. Member of the expert group of the Jiangsu Provincial Extracurricular Reading Steering Committee. Likes to cook text with music. Representative works "The Wind Will Remember the Fragrance of Flowers", "There is a Beautiful Flower, Fragrant to the Evening", Ding Limei's Writing Class" and "Meet" and "Warm Love". His work "Hyacinth in a FlowerPot" was selected as a Chinese textbook for Singapore Secondary Schools. The work "There is a kind of love called dependence on life" was selected as the "Language" textbook of the national secondary college. The traditional chinese version of the collection "You Are In, the World Is There" was distributed in Taiwan and Hong Kong. He is regarded by readers as "the warmest writer".
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Yucheng rong media anchor - Chen Shuai