Chapter 47 cosmic love

This morning four years ago, I got up early and sat by this pool. It is still the green leaves and clear water.It is still white clouds coming and going in the water wearing tree shadows.It's still me four years ago. These green leaves, but those green leaves four years ago?The water is the water from four years ago?The cloud is the cloud of four years ago? ——I was me four years ago? They are still Ye'er, Shui'er, and Yun'er, and they are still just Ye'er, Shui'er, and Yun'er four years ago. ——However, they have undergone the love of the universe several times, and they grow happily from the new life, flow alive, and stay freely.

They are still from four years ago, only infiltrated with the love of the universe and transformed into new life. ——But I was me four years ago? Four years ago, they were only playful and lively, why are they replaced by a subtle and solemn one now? ——But I was me four years ago? Looking up at the moon, how can you look at the moon in the water!The same sky light and cloud shadow, but also add rippling branches, floating full moon, and me alone overlooking the clear stream. The long white line-like wall is dragged across the green mountain.In this vast space, the sun can't be blocked, and the wind can't be blocked. Only natural love is infinite, so why bother to distinguish between this world and the world of love?

Sitting facing the undulating mountains, distant towers, and boundless villages and plains, I just hugged my knees and meditated.The morning sun is shining on my hair,——Thinking about how many children who didn’t come in the faint city siege in the east, Bingzhong who just came home, Uncle Bing who is sick, and the little brother who slept alone under the tree yesterday, how could They are here too... June 18, 1921, in Xishan.In the miscellaneous watery moon in the mountains, there are only her and me on the chi's head.Facing the water in the shadow of the tree, I could faintly hear the sound of water and laughter.We are talking slightly, I am afraid that this sleeping world will be awakened. ——Wan Lai is silent, and under the moonlight there are only deep blue pool water and exquisite snow-white clothes.This is only a moment in an infinite life!However, in the infinite life, how can such a moment be easily obtained!

In the sunset, the cattle and sheep descended the mountain, and the little ants walked on the blue rock like fate.The tender yellow leaves of the green bushes also set off the red wall. ——At this time of year, everything is shrouded in loneliness. Have you ever thought of what the colorful newsprints in Beijing are all about? Only in the deep valley in the morning can we talk to nature.The plan is settled, the rock nods, and the plants and flowers laugh.Creator!The future of our star gallop is on the way, please settle the deep valley for a few mornings far away! On the steep rock, among the tangled tree roots, I am the only one looking down on everything. ——In the infinite universe, how can humans compare with material mountains, water, remote villages, clouds and trees?

However, human thoughts can transcend into space, but they are always only on the ground. On June 20, 1921, in Xishan.Personalism can't save the world, theory can't save the world, to participate in the wonderful work of creation, only your pure and noble personality. Almighty God! I beg you to silently use the flawless nature to create our noble and independent personality.Apart from the universe, the cutest thing is children.You don't have to think about it when you talk to him, and you don't have to be reserved.Raise your head to laugh, lower your head to get water.It doesn't matter if you think deeply or sing aloud; on the donkey's back or under the mountain gate, when you occasionally look back, you are always lively and smiling.

On June 23, 1921, in Xishan.Depression of youth Life in youth is doomed to be dull.Whether it is movement, stillness, joy, or boredom, there is always boredom following behind. Why?Is it the crystal clear moon, the gloomy rain, the endless mountains as far as the eye can see, or the sparkling microwaves in the half pond?This is only a momentary natural phenomenon.It is divine, it is gentle, what kind of boring influence does it have on life? "If I don't go to hell, who goes to hell?" boring! On June 24, 1921 in Xishan.The picture strolled down the mountain gate, why did it ever want to find a quiet place to visit Sheng?

Turning around the mountain depression, there is a piece of green grass, with endless shadows of towering trees.The curved stone bridge behind the tree, two lions squatting behind the bridge in the afterglow.Looking back, there is only a crumbling wall and a peeling red door, but it is deeply closed.It turned out to be the mausoleum of the old family!How to lament the rise and fall, and print a picture. In the middle of the mountain, depending on the height, thousands of swallows are flying around the temple.The walls like battlements, the corridors of white stones, and the gate towers of yellow and green glazed tiles are exquisitely carved.In front of the building is the bright red sunset glow on the mountain, and behind the building are the village trees on the plain in the sky, dark blue and thick purple.In the twilight, merged together.Could it be Yuyu Qionglou?Could it be Yao Palace Bei Que?How can I search for poetry and print a picture.

As I walked with my head down, a sentence from a poem suddenly came to my mind. "In April, there are no dwarf trees in the south of the Yangtze River, and everyone is in the shade of greenery." Why use bitter memories of whose work is it? Why use bitter memories of the full text of this poem.Only this has described all the people at the bottom of the mountain!The Realization of Love The poet Jingbo has come here several times for the summer.The undulating distant mountains and the clear blue water are the most elegant.Every summer, he brings the materials he has saved for a year to complete his masterpiece here.

He is now about to start a long essay titled "The Realization of Love." He gets up early every day, sits on the porch where the vines are blowing, holding a pen and stretching out paper.Under the thick shade, from time to time, buzzing bees and flower petals fell on the paper, and he smiled from his contemplation and picked them away with the tip of his pen.Microwaves rippled undulatingly outside the low wall.The cicadas under the scorching sun are singing in bursts.These voices slowly elicited his thoughts, urging him to write down slowly. The sound of footsteps on the sand made him raise his head inadvertently.I saw a pile of thick black hair by the low wall, tied with pink silk knots, walking and jumping past.Those who followed behind could only hear laughter, but no one could be seen.

He lowered his head again to write his handwriting, and the tip of the pen moved quickly.He seems to feel that his thoughts are more lively and his words are more powerful, which can express the meaning of infinite love in his heart——after writing a paragraph, he just thinks about it with a silent smile. ——In the sea waves, in the breeze, there are looming figures with thick black hair and laughter. The golden sunset casts a deep purple on the top of the mountain, but the shadow of the mountain is still covered on the sand.When the tide goes down, the stones are still bright.The poet came out of the room, brushed the table, and did his afternoon homework again.

The laughter came again, and the poet stood up with a pen.There were two children walking outside the wall; the girl was holding her brother's head. Their hair and cheeks were the same thick black and blush, and their smiles were also the same depth.Walking in small steps.After walking far away, the girl's snow-white arms and the hat her brother wore behind her neck could still be seen, passing through the slanting thorns on the white stone road and into the shade of the trees. The poet sat down again and wrote down very briskly. He wrote a section of "The Realization of Love" with pen, song, ink and dance. In the evening wind, the sky was blurred.The poet rolled up the paper, went down the porch, and stood outside the wall.There is still residual heat on the sand.In the shade of the trees at the end of the stone path, it seems that the snow-white arms and the fluttering hatband still loom. Every morning and evening, he must see these two children.When they came here, they didn't stop, they just skipped and walked past.The poet didn't call him, just looked at them silently, came, passed, then lowered his head, and wrote his "Realization of Love" with infinite liveliness and joy. When the time came, he unconsciously listened to the sound of small footsteps and lively laughter.From chance to desire - passionate desire. Four or five days passed, and he felt that without these two children, his literary thinking would be sluggish, and sometimes he couldn't continue writing. They are advancing and retreating like the tide.There is constant, punctual, unconsciously, guiding the writer's train of thought. This work is about to be finished, and only the last paragraph is left. It was a slightly cloudy day in the morning, and the sun was about to leak through the gaps in the clouds.He didn't want to write today, he just sat on the porch to rest.Gradually the sky opened again.Two children held umbrellas and passed through the wall. In the evening, suddenly black clouds piled up and the wind picked up.Flashes of lightning pierced through the thick clouds.Then thunder rumbled in the air.Hai Boer pushed each other like hills, and the white foam almost invaded the sides.He went into the house, shut the door, and turned on the light.I opened the manuscript paper out of boredom, looked at it from the beginning, and then sat down to finish this "The Realization of Love" tonight. ——For a moment, I suddenly thought of those two lively and exquisite children. He stood up and paced the room frowning.Standing leaning on the back of the chair again, "They passed away in the morning. Could it be possible to see them come back in this stormy night? What have they to do with "The Realization of Love"...Could it be impossible to write any more?" He turned around, sat down resolutely, stretched out the paper, and picked up the pen—he only tapped the pen slightly on the ink cartridge in a daze. The sound of rain outside the window became louder and louder, like a horse on the eaves.The raindrops hit the glass of the window complicatedly, and the wind blew the wet branches with dense leaves, sweeping across the corridor outside the corridor, rustling.He looked at his watch hesitantly, the time had not yet arrived, and he felt that there was still a glimmer of hope.Then he stood up, put on his raincoat, opened the door, and walked out. The raindrops are coming, the wind is blowing, and the door can't be closed.He lowered his head and walked into the wind and rain, the wet mud covered his feet, he walked straight and stood against the wall.Watching their way from the darkness.The wind is cold, and the rain is cold, but the ardent desire in his heart can resist everything, making him stand firmly under the wind and rain. A round of heavy rain passed, and the tree became stable.The electric light continued to draw bright spells in the dark sky, flashing and flashing the fresh green on the leaves. ——Suddenly heard laughter coming from behind, turning around, in the lightning, a short black shadow turned around the corner of the wall.When I looked again, it disappeared again.He still stood with his back to the wind. The second round of heavy rain came, Hai Bo  , his hands and feet were icy cold, he could not wait any longer, so he had to go around the wall, jumped up the steps, and wiped the drops of water off his face. ——I saw my door was open, and there was a soaked umbrella outside the door. When I looked inside, under the light, on the rocking chair opposite the desk, there were two smiling children sleeping in the dream.The girl's snow-white left arm was hanging out of the chair, but her right arm was used as a pillow for her younger brother, her loose hair also covered her younger brother's face, and the silk flower had already fallen on the edge of the chair.Her younger brother was leaning on her shoulder, his plump white calf exposed in his short jacket.In the sound of the startling storm, I fell asleep peacefully.Everything in the house was the same.It's just that the roll of manuscript paper on the table was scattered by the wind and fell to the ground. He was lost in a daze, without making a sound.He took off his raincoat, wiped his shoes, and tiptoed in.Picking up the manuscript paper on the ground, holding it rolled up in his hand, with his arms behind his back, staring at the two smiling children in the dream. At this time, his thoughts were rushing again and again, and he returned to the table without hesitation, picked out the last piece of paper, and continued to write with the pen. The sound of the rain gradually stopped, and the two children woke up stretched under the shadow of the lamp.A room full of books, a person who writes, how come here?How do you fall asleep while avoiding the rain?The sleepy Xingyan stared at each other for a while, then slowly got out of the chair and walked out the door.Pick up the umbrella to walk side by side from the sound of dripping rain. It was muddy and dark outside, and the air was oppressive. ——The poet watched them come and go, but still remained silent.I just unconsciously wrote countless "The Realization of Love" vertically and horizontally behind the completed manuscript. (This article was originally published in No. 7, Volume 12, July 1921 of "Novel Yuegen", and later included in the collection of novels and essays "Superman".)