That year, when I was very young, my sister said that she would take me to catch small fish in the newly harvested rice field in front of the village. Terraced fields in mountainous areas are always unique. Mountain people get up early and get greedy for the dark, and they are cultivated and planted in the mountains from generation to generation. Over time, the terraced fields have formed the character of mountain people, cutting their axes and chopping them from the stream at the foot of the mountain to the mountainside layer by layer.

honest and frank, a simple Yi family, has a clear distinction between love and hate. Terrace is a masterpiece of hard work and wisdom of the mountain people, a sculpture of nature, and a manifestation of the Yi family's character.

From the small stream running all the year round behind the village, green mountain spring water is attracted to irrigate the rice fields. Every spring, it is the day when farmers are busy sowing seeds, catching up with the old cow and plowing and raking in the winding fields. All I remember is that those little loaches are running around in the muddy water, so my sister and I are happy to catch loaches behind my parents' plows and rakes.

in autumn, the mountains are covered with golden yellow. The ears of rice, in the heavy, receive the tits coming and going, especially the little sparrows, and live happily and carefree in the chirp. They can stop in any rice field and be full. Scarecrow, made of straw leaves by mountain people, is dressed in rags, so they can't be scared. They can eat wherever they like. When they are full, they go to the big banyan tree in front of the village to find relatives and friends and catch up with each other enthusiastically.

After the rice was harvested, many rice stubbles were left in the terraced fields. Father and his companions drove the old cow to plow the fields early in the morning. Strangely enough, the cow with thick calluses on its shoulders always listens to his father's words. When turning over the fields, he walks step by step along the turned-up mud ditch until he reaches the head of the field. When his father calls and turns around, the old cow obediently turns his head.

after the rice fields are turned over, there will be many wild small fish. When it's time to plant beans and wheat, the mountain people drain the water in the terraced fields, then go to the furrow, bury the turned rice stubble at the bottom, ridge the turned soil into the ground, and then pick up a lot of farmyard manure to plant spring crops such as broad beans and wheat with hoes.

At that time, the water in the field was nearly half dry. Facing the water that was about to dry up, those poor little fish were in the water with few ditches, flocking to feed and find the next way out. Everyone in the mountain knows that at this time, as long as you bring a cage made of bamboo, you can catch many small fish.

My sister took me through the vine-covered and stone-built water mill in front of the village and came to the paddy field ditch where wheat was planted. In shallow water, many small fish can be seen eating "head-up water" (now that I think about it, it may be that there is not enough oxygen, and the fish always float on the water to gasp). My sister said, Little brother, you catch it over there, and I'll catch it at Shuikou. After a while, many small fish will be driven into cages.

I said, "Sister. These small fish are poor. They know that the water is going to dry, and the family has no choice but to come out and find their way. Shall we put them in the stream? "

"The parents of this little fish don't know where to go, so we put them in the stream and let them follow the stream to find their parents." At first, my sister didn't want to. After I had a hard time, she said, "OK, it depends on you. You can't let those who drink catch them and eat them. They are still young. "

So, my brother and sister used a small bucket, put clean water on it, and lifted the small fish eager to find their parents into the stream next to the water mill.

"Go to your parents!" My sister said, "The rivers are your home. Don't come to this rice field in the future. Frogs will eat you and people will eat you."

from then on, those poor little fish often swam helplessly in my dreams at night in the rice fields in front of the village.

I always think that the little fish that my sister and I let go should have found their parents, fighting the wind and waves in the rough river, taking dangerous beaches and crossing the bad waves for their own ideals or goals.

[2]

"I am a dying fish." Once, the little fish didn't feel sad, and said to me very flatly.

My heart was full of bitterness, because I remembered whether those small fish released with my sister were eaten by those rude village people or what happened on the way.

The name of the network was originally a symbol, but through the name of "Little Mermaid in Heaven", I always feel that after this, I am tired of the world of mortals and think about life. In short, I feel that I am in the world of mortals and look down on the world of mortals.

a weak woman, a unique poet, doesn't know what kind of hardships she has suffered in life.

I remembered a fairy tale I once heard: there was a young man who made a living by fishing. His parents died and he lived alone. One day, I caught a little red fish. The color of the fish is bright and lovely, and the bright eyes seem to be able to talk to people, and there is an unspeakable spirituality. For this reason, he was not willing to sell it, but kept it carefully in a stone jar. When he came back from fishing every day, he fed it to the hard-earned fish food. One day not long after, the young man came back from fishing and saw the delicious food still steaming on the humble table. It was strange that there were no relatives or friends in the village. Who would help him?

after that, as long as he comes back from fishing, there will be delicious meals every day. The young man is puzzled. In order to find out the reason, on this day, he pretended to go fishing, went to the village entrance, put down his fishing gear, and quietly came home. From the crack outside the dilapidated house, he saw a beautiful girl in a red skirt, cooking for herself. The girl's face was red and her eyes were bright. Although the young man looks good, his family is poor, and the girls in the village have never really seen themselves.

"whose kind-hearted girl is this?" He thought and went in to ask. The girl who was cooking was caught by him. In desperation, she told the truth. She was the little red fish, and she was grateful that he didn't sell it, so she became a person to cook for him. From then on, they loved each other and lived together.

This fairy tale has been growing with me. Every day, I always think of the lovely little red fish and the girl in the red skirt.

I haven't known Xiaoyu for a long time, nor is it short, but her poems, every line, are always deeply engraved into my soul. No one can know how much helplessness and hardship a person who travels freely in the palace of literature will have in his experience and life.

Heaven has a milky way, and the seven fairies are still bathing recklessly in the hot summer sun. They are so pure that people don't have evil thoughts, their skin is as white as jade, their figure is graceful and touching, their faces are smiling, and they are playing in the innocent water.

by the river, there are green grass, pavilions, singing and dancing. This scene should only exist in the sky, and the filth on earth is not stained at all. Green mountains and green waters leave their innocence in childhood, blue sky and white clouds, and write down their happiness.

It was the spoony Yong Dong who aroused their hearts. It was the hateful cowherd who said that they met on the Queqiao Bridge on Tanabata.

But human beings, like rivers, have the charming scenery that "the canoe has crossed Chung Shan Man" and the dangerous beaches and waves that "the Yellow River is roaring". Yes, there is true feelings in the world, but what is left after repeated deception and jealousy. In despair, there are only words, picking up her broken heart, only mountains and rivers, missing in the rice fields of my hometown and in the sculptures of nature.

I'm thinking that the little fish should swim down the stream to a waterfall, and see the spray splashing, and the sisters jump bravely one by one, some turn beautiful somersaults, some dance beautifully, a spray and a song.

My sister said that it was the boundless sea, calling to them. It was a beautiful love, which haunted them. It was the parents' exhortation and expectation. When the children were older, they had to fight the storm.

After going through nine twists and eighteen turns, the fish are growing in the rain and hurricane.

natural selection, everything is animistic, people say "three lives", and the little fish is thinking, "How can it be so difficult to be a fish? Next life, be a man! Next life, go to heaven! "

Heaven is just a virtual world. Who has seen cars coming and going in heaven? Those kitsch have already defiled the purity of Tianhe, and those magpies have already left home.

Zhumadian, south of the river.

picturesque rivers and mountains, talented people come forth in large numbers, parents' hard work, endless pastoral cultivation, heavy history and the dream of small fish.

"Engineer of the human soul", what a noble honor. In reality, how many people remember respecting teachers and attaching importance to teaching? In the past, the master who taught martial arts always kept one hand, but now I know that "the waves behind the Yangtze River push the waves before", and the master is worthless on the day he started.

No matter how bad heaven is, it's much purer than this ugly world. It's so beautiful and colorful that it's not as quiet as a small mountain village.

So, she sends her affection between poems and weaves those words without complaint into lines. Above the mountains, like a bright star, it ranks on the home page. How many difficulties and exclusions she encountered, how many blows and slanders she suffered, as always, she was attached to the country.

"Three years, looking back, we have gained too much and lost too much." She said to her friends, "Who can understand my attachment to Jiangshan and my loyalty to my friends?"

my friends said, "I am the master of my country! Besides, on this illusory network, even in real life, isn't it also jealous of the virtuous and talented? Only friendship lasts forever! As long as the words are not old, we are together! "

"together!" Fish said.

besides the great river, there are oceans ahead. Hope is on the other side.

I saw that in the season when the grass grows and the warblers fly, all the rows of Chun Yan are flying over the blue sky in the chirp to build their own love nest. Last year's peach blossoms are still the same, and this year's spring is still the same. It is the spring breeze that turns your tears into nectar that moistens the earth, it is love and hate that soothes your wounds, it is dancing butterflies that evoke your deep feelings, and it is swarms of dragonflies that write poems for you.

Spring water is still a fish, not a Chinese sturgeon, but an ordinary little fish in the Yangtze River.

I saw a red sun, which dyed a Jiang Bibo red. It was the passion of summer, which burned your love and hate and set off your poems. Spring has come and gone, and only the pursuit in my heart is burning with you. Zhumadian may not be stationed in Malaysia, but it has retained history. Those heroes who are all-powerful have not gone far away. The sound of horseshoes has broken the footprints of ancestors, and the crossbow has sounded, remembering in the tranquility of the mountain village.

catkins are swaying, not summer flowers, not the splendor of Luoyang peony, but a leaf of peony flowers, singing nobleness and commonness.

I saw maple leaves in autumn, covered with endless hills. In my mind, holding hands with my beloved, wandering on the secluded path, picking off the maple leaf around me, writing a promise full of love and giving it to good people all over the world. Go to the chrysanthemum on the fence happily, pour the water from the Yangtze River and make you a cup of fragrant chrysanthemum tea.

In the world, the canoe has passed Chung Shan Man, and there is no fragrant hill. It is just a grass above the mountains and rivers, covered with crystal dew in the unknown wilderness.

I saw the snow in winter, pure and flawless, fluttering and spreading freely. When the northland wind blows through the white clothes, the flowers of Jiangshan still bloom. A big river, love is on both sides, the wind blows rice flowers, there is a beautiful woman, in the south of the river. The hibernating soil is thawed under the cultivation of relatives, and tireless little fish are still busy under the noisy ice ridge.

The four seasons are like smoke, the mountains are high and the water is long. I love poetry and sing softly.

[3]

Who can walk into your heart and heal your wounds? Who will gently wipe away the tears on your cheeks for you? Who can read the poems you wrote with your heart?

There is only the legendary paradise, only your lingering poems, and only your love without regrets!

knowing where you come from, you don't know where you are going. Get rid of those illusory reputations, including masterpieces that have won the national crown, including countless dazzling reputations in Jiangshan. You are still a sad fish, and you are alone on earth and in heaven.

People only know your poems, which are gentle, charming and introverted, and there is no lack of innovation in self-publicity, and your works are unique. The poetic style is sometimes tender as water, and the wind, flowers and snow are all in the poem, and the charm of the rain hitting the banana is vividly portrayed. Sometimes arrogant and uninhibited, wild and provocative gives people a sense of grandeur.

Scholars have been lonely since ancient times. The nature of fish is always free. You don't need other people's criticism. Your inner world is always in the words, in the spring flowers and the autumn moon, and in the lyric of selflessness.

full of talent and love, your heart swims along the poem.

The companions who went down the river with you have gone. They can't bear the worldly troubles. Under the polluted river, "near Zhu Zhechi, near Mexico, black people" can't bear to blend in with those ordinary people. Only you, without hesitation, swim far away.

The scenery that accompanied you through the four seasons is far away, including the green mountains and green waters, the cries of trackers, the cries of apes, the men who paddle, the waterfalls that fly, and the rushing rivers, leaving you alone to ride the wind and waves in the distant view.

I know that after all the hardships, you finally found a home, a warm harbor. So, without hesitation, you are attached to it, and if you want to go home, you can't go home. You hold up your ideals with weak strength.

"When we have enough money, we will go home and build a house!" You care about migrant workers, walk into them with deep affection and listen to their voices before the New Year, in that simple shed. I think of my old parents in my hometown, the shabby thatched cottage in my hometown, the starving children, and the working couples in shabby clothes and weather-beaten tears.

"If you have money, go home for the New Year." The wife said.

"hmm." The husband hugged his wife, whose clothes were thin and her face was full of vicissitudes, and said, "Dear, don't worry, life will always get better, as long as the ideal doesn't die," Tonight, I will beat the horse with you! ""

On a dark and windy day, the fish is asking, "When will there be a bright moon?"? The brush strokes directly face the bottom of society, and the deep love and compassion are beyond description!

It is the fertile soil of the country, which has nurtured her children, and it is the passion of China, which has burned her children. Facing the motherland that raised him, Fish sang "Motherland in the Moon", "Red Ballad" and "Sickle and Axe" from the bottom of his heart. Through those lines of poetry, I feel the ever-changing changes in the motherland and imagine the spring of China with the poet's voice.

without a country, how can there be a home? Children don't think their mothers are ugly, and dogs don't think their families are poor. When someone smears the mother's face, you are infatuated, and you are immersed in love and sing for your mother. How many people are there?

you love your hometown, and you can't forget the landscape and relatives in your hometown. The wanderer's love is dedicated to youth in planting peaches and plums, and only dreams remain in my hometown. "Father's Sheep", still grazing in my heart, reminds me of my first love, and reminds me of the afterlife of the emperor. "The bank of the river and I are waiting for you! "Look through your eyes and see the end of the world. "Dim Lights", and you have a "Spring Agreement", don't you forget? Just, only "My Father and Mother" is still looking out at the village entrance.

Your thoughts have finally been heard in Father in Bed, and the fathers in the world have finally heard it. I went back to my hometown in a few dreams, and two lines of tears wet my shirt. The poet's feelings are so far, to realize the love and affection of fish, the sadness and bitterness of wanderers.

You have a clear love-hate relationship, one essay after another, "like a dagger, like throwing a gun". Since literature came into being, there have been literary scum, just like since human beings came into being, there have been traitors who ignored the national justice. So, you raised your eyebrows lightly and shouted with your arms.