Fragrant prose

Essay about incense 1

The wife said: "My beloved, don't you love to smell incense? I once asked someone to go to Lukang to buy good agarwood thread; now it has been Sent." As she said this, she opened the drawer of the dresser, took out a piece of agarwood string, lit it, and inserted it into the small Xuan stove.

I said: "Amidst the cigarette smoke, there must be peace. Tell me a life story, otherwise, tell me about Buddhism."

My wife said: " It's too wild to tell a story. Not to mention, I won't tell you."

"Just tell me what you know. Anyway, we don't understand much. Tell me, what? It’s Buddhism.”

“Is it Buddhism? — Form, — Sound, — Taste, — Touch, — Creation, — Thought, are all Buddhism; only love. The love of smelling fragrance is not Buddhism."

"You are contradictory again! What is the reason?"

"Because once you fall in love, it becomes your hobby. The fragrance is no longer the original fragrance in your sense of smell." Essay about fragrance 2

Thinking about it, the lilac flowers have been blooming in my heart, waiting and looking forward to it. , June, the lilac finally blooms gracefully.

The trees and the handfuls of lilacs, either enchanting in purple or elegant in white, splendid the entire season, fragrant for a while and softened a memory. A charming note of thoughts. The faint fragrance is filled with intoxicating inner words; the wind, the clouds, the butterflies are drunk, and the young lovers whispering are drunk, and they also end up in that curtain of dreams.

I like lilacs. Every time I pass by a lilac bush, I will stand quietly and smell the fragrance of lilacs, and a wisp of tenderness will soften my heart. There is almost a feeling of greed that cannot be moved away; the light fragrance, the reserved and elegant posture, the pure and noble aura, make people feel refreshed, tranquil and leisurely from the bottom of their hearts, which will also make people feel relaxed and relaxed. People have many wonderful reveries. ()

So, I deliberately went to that quiet street in the dusk when the drizzle was dim and the fragrance was floating, to smell the refreshing fragrance of lilac flowers, to listen to the faint whisper of lilac flowers, and to Waiting for a beautiful and romantic encounter. Lilac flowers become more beautiful and charming under the moistening of rain. They are like slim girls, pure and innocent, fresh and refined. Fragrant. Standing in front of the flower, hold your breath and deeply smell the fresh fragrance accompanied by rain and dew, and gently kiss each petal.

However, I did not taste the "sadness" and "sorrow" described by the poet, and I did not see the girl with the melancholy of lilacs holding an oil-paper umbrella. I only feel the purity, elegance and youthfulness of lilac flowers like the feelings of a girl. Let my heart encounter a hazy crystal love in flowers.

Yes, this is not the rainy alley in the south of the Yangtze River where the poet writes about the sorrow and resentment of lilac flowers. Why should I forcefully express my sorrow for writing new words? I walked out of the melancholy of Dai Wangshu's rain lane. Essay on Fragrance 3

In fact, our memories are full of flavor. The smell of the fleeting years penetrates into our hearts and spleens along with the sense of smell - the smell of fireworks on New Year's Eve, the smell after the noise on the street The smell of popcorn, the smell of snacks on the books at the same table, the smell of grease on your grandmother's hands, the body odor on your lover's shirt... they seem to permeate the present from the long past, making you feel happy the moment you smell them. Recalling that scene from that year.

This afternoon when I was wandering around Joy City near my home, I passed by an unknown perfume shop. Those exquisite little bottles attracted me. Although the perfumes in the shop did not have the murderous flavor of big brands, But it is friendly and sweet. Surprisingly, there is one with a lilac scent. When you press it gently, the faint scent of lilac comes to your nostrils... Lilacs are rarely seen in Beijing, but the smell of lilac flowers can be smelled everywhere in June in my hometown. It is the smell of summer in Manchuria. At this time, the crowds in the streets and alleys become as active as bees in the flowers. Countless happy summer days in my youth were also blended into the quiet fragrance of flowers.

I remember that I was obsessed with reading romance novels when I was in the first grade of junior high school. Every day after school, I would sit by the lilac bushes on the north side of the overpass and read for a while. I still remember the afterglow of the setting sun and the waves of the evening breeze. The fragrance of flowers, a few lilacs beating on the page during the ups and downs of the plot, like the tears shed by an angel, accompanied me to understand the warmth and warmth of the world. It was not until the words slowly sank from the dusk that I went home with unfulfilled feelings.

The Summer Night Friendship Palace in Manzhouli is the busiest. In addition to showing movies, various performances are held. That tall Russian-style building is like a castle in a fairy tale, and there are always bubbles of joy boiling inside. Every night, there is bustling traffic, singing and laughter. One summer, the Friendship Palace held a "China-Russia Friendship Party". All the city government agencies and the delegation from Chita, a Russian border city, gathered at the Friendship Palace to perform. It was very lively, but the seats were limited and there were no children. . So a few friends and I jumped in from the window of the toilet in the Friendship Palace, and we tiptoed toward the hall. When we looked back, we saw that no one was watching at the door. They were all going to watch the show. As soon as we entered the hall, there were so many people standing and watching that we couldn't see anything. We could only hear a rich Russian baritone singing "Evenings in the Suburbs of Moscow." It was the first time I heard a foreigner singing. We were so anxious. After squeezing around in the crowd, I finally made it to the front. A girls' chorus was being performed on the stage. I saw my mother at a glance. She was standing in the middle, wearing a white skirt. A beam of light happened to hit my mother. She was serious. Singing: "You give me a rose, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart..." The cheerful Western melody made me unable to look away from that summer night filled with singing and my mother's young face.

We moved to a new home in June of that year. In order to match the new home with beautiful curtains, my sister and I went to all the fabric stores on a June day when the drizzle drenched the lilacs. I harvested a bunch of lilac-shaped wind chimes. We hung them on the window of the living room and waited stupidly for the wind to blow them. That was another feeling I had about lilacs.

Everyone’s heart reflects the reflection of some kind of blooming flower, which is the various emotions of life that have been deposited in the years of blooming flowers. Now, in this midwinter when everything is dying, when the mist-like gas hits my cheeks, all the memories of lilac flowers blooming also hit my face, making me recall those things in those years like a spring breeze. I remember the flowers blooming today, but I know how many flowers have fallen in my dreams... Essay on Fragrance 4

The rain in early summer moistened the cool dusk. I was invited to a banquet at a Jiangbin Road hotel called "New Lilac". When I was drunk and hazy, I looked back at the blurry raindrops on the Oujiang River outside the window, and couldn't help but think of the poet Dai Wangshu, the lonely rainy alley, the anxious oil-paper umbrella, and the sad girl with a lilac...

< p> In ancient poetry, lilac always gives people a feeling of sadness.

Just like Li Jing's "Huanxi Sand", "The bluebird does not send foreign messages from the clouds, and the lilacs knot in the sky are sad in the rain", Li Shangyin's "Gift on behalf of" "The bananas do not show the lilac knots, and each of them is sad in the same spring breeze", which is full of deep emotions. of melancholy. Lilac is used as a metaphor for melancholy. According to research, it comes from when the lilac has not bloomed, its buds are densely covered, like thousands of small knots wrapped around the branches, as if people have endless sorrows and worries in their hearts.

"I want to show my feelings of sadness and separation, but the lilac knot is in my heart." The small lilac buds have a beautiful and sad cultural image chanted through the ages - the lilac knot. Maybe the popular term "entangled" has a similar meaning to this.

After the lilac knot opens, the flowers are weak and slender, and the petals are almost indistinguishable. They are densely packed and clustered into a huge strawberry shape. The lower part is fatter and the upper part is thinner, giving people a sense of unfulfilled desire. Since the Tang and Song Dynasties, it has become a symbol of sadness and separation.

I remember once seeing a lilac tree. It was lush and fragrant, with purple, white, and crimson lilac flowers hanging all over the branches. As I came closer to appreciate it carefully, I suddenly thought of Li Qingzhao's "Plum blossoms with heavy pistils are so vulgar, and a thousand knots of lilacs are bitter and rough. A man who has dreamed of thousands of miles of sorrow is heartless." I feel that this sentence "A thousand knots of lilacs are bitter and rough" is so descriptive. It's so apt, and I really feel like "a man who has dreamed of thousands of miles of sorrow, but is ruthless" feels in his heart. On the other hand, if you think about it again, if you have not read this poem by Li Qingzhao, you will not know that the ancients used lilac knots to represent the deep sorrow and sorrow of separation in the world!

Do you really feel this way when you see this tree full of lilacs? Or, no feeling at all? Human emotions are easily dominated and influenced by environment and culture. In fact, that night, I had no worries about the lilacs in the rain. I just thought that my friends in my life were gradually drifting away, and suddenly I felt a little lonely and a little drunk. "You should laugh at me if you are passionate, and you will be born early." Being passionate is just a troubling thing. That’s all. "The world is like a dream, and a bottle of wine can bring back the moonlight over the river." At least there are still dreams and this glass of blessing wine.

Essay on Fragrance 5

Lilac, a small and delicate flower. Light and elegant, quiet and open. I used to stand side by side with you so persistently, confiding all my thoughts in the dust. Either passionate or sad, they interpret each other so truly.

I am not a lilac, I am just a leaf. However, when I collide with your love, I am willing to cut off the edges and corners, tear away the last boundary or hypocrisy, embrace you, and feel the warmth. In this mortal world where true love is so barren, I will be entangled with you greedily and become a pair of sister flowers, blooming in the dust.

A rain, lilac rain. Sprinkle on the lintel of my heart. So soft, so soft, so silently moistening my dry heart. Rain, what else can be more delicate, moister than rain, and more thorough than rain? What's more, it's the lilac rain, which is moist with fragrance and a gift that has been passed down by thousands of sails.

How can I not be nostalgic, the warmth in the silence. Without words, my lonely thoughts will reach your sensitive thoughts. Just like my heart, when I miss you, you are thinking of me. Just sitting in the sight of each other, feeling the care of the gentle wind and drizzle.

I don’t know, the season of lilac rain, what kind of season is that? I have asked countless times, is it sunny or drizzling? Is it the scorching sun or the snow falling in the sky? No one can tell me whether this encounter is a disaster or a blessing.

That season, I taste it with my heart. Looking at the passing youth and people passing by around me, listening to the hypocrisy in the conversion of faith and laughter. I gradually became a little lost, whether I should believe in my own truth or the powerful sound coming from nature.

One by one at midnight, I heard the sound of lilacs opening, so low and subtle. Gradually, my almost confused heart came out of the haze, and I saw the lush green and the fiery red. I suddenly woke up. The season of lilac rain is March, the spring when all things come to life.

From now on, whether my tears are a metaphor for a trickle or a metaphor for the ocean, only you understand. You faced the wind and carried the firefly, burying my sorrow of having nowhere to go, and letting the defeated dignity stand upright in the dictionary of life over and over again.

I’m not very good at words, and I don’t know how to dress up the green charm to make people happy. It has always been rough and thrown to you without any modification, or simply kept silent. It makes you sleepy, chilly, and even disappointing. But as time went by, you came to know my bad qualities, and you tolerated everything about me with your round and smooth feelings.

We are neither separated nor together. We are silent, but not alone. We have been right across from each other, you looking at me and I listening to you. If one day, you and I are within reach, I will hug you fiercely, and then run hand in hand down the long street.

Let everyone know that we are a pair of sisters, and let every inch of the ground under our feet know how close we are.

Some people like lilacs, but I like rain. Just because it’s Lilac Rain. Meeting you in the world of mortals is the heartfelt and joyful tears in life!

What is more precious than an opportunity? How much fate and accumulation is this? One life, or three lives and three lives? No one can tell clearly. No more asking questions, just cherishing the season with you. Although the flowers are in full bloom and the leaves are falling on the other side, Yihelian always holds us together. Until we no longer have the strength to look at each other, we will grow old together with a smile. Prose about Fragrance 6

Every April, the hillside behind the house in my hometown is full of lilacs. One by one, a small flower blooms on the branches. There are lavender, white, and pink. The complex ones are good, and the light ones are good. They are very charming. Charming but not slutty, with a subtle elegance that is compelling. When I was young, I often lay on the window sill on the second floor, looking at it quietly, thinking about it, and the lilac flowers kept blooming in my heart. ——The flowers are still beautiful.

Lilac flowers love the sun but are afraid of humidity. They exude a touch of sadness in their bones. They are the most concerned flowers and the most pitiable flowers. I like its coolness and sadness...it has the same charm as the lilac woman in the rain alley. Someone may ask, isn't it flowers that you like? I actually don’t quite understand this anymore, so I just have to leave it alone.

Lilac, although gentle in character, is also not lacking in enthusiasm. Sometimes, she is as weak as water, and sometimes, she is as strong as a stone.

It's hard to figure out and full of mystery. Faced with the harsh environment and the attacks of wind and rain, it adapts, stands upright, and resists silently, firmly believing that there will be a rainbow after the wind and rain; facing the bright sunshine and the flying butterflies, it is affectionate and gentle as water. Perhaps, it is precisely because of this that it is so beautiful that it makes people throb, it is so beautiful that it makes people pity, and it is so beautiful that it makes people heartbreak!

Beauty is always short-lived, and wind and rain are always ruthless. Watching the trees full of flowers falling in the wind and rain. In my heart, there was a trace of pity unconsciously, and that slight sigh! They also fell with the flowers and fell into the deep soil. Perhaps Feng Yu also knows that without the lilac flowers, Feng Yu also loses its bleak color. Only the lingering like lilac, the sadness like lilac, the sigh like lilac...

If you like lilac, you may not necessarily have to look at it in reality. Appreciate it in the bottom of your heart, in the depths of your soul, and in the long time. The aura of the lilac flower cannot withstand the slightest bit of dust, it is just clean and nothing more.

The lavender color of a tree is like a storm. Floating and falling, are you still attached to Butterfly? Are you helpless about the wind and rain? Maybe, maybe not. Whether to go or stay, whether to be happy or sad, has long been difficult to explain. Sad eyes, melancholy posture. Open in the sun and fall in the wind and rain. None of these are important anymore. What is important is that in the wind and rain, be sad but not sad, lonely but not indifferent. It is the most beautiful sigh in the wind and rain! Prose about fragrance 7

Tasting longing is tasting life

A life without wind and rain will have no precious memories in this life. A life without longing is a incomplete life.

In the colorful life, longing is the sweetest and happiest; among the five flavors of life, longing is the most fragrant.

To savor missing is to savor life.

Missing is a lingering feeling, a concern, a spiritual connection, and an emotional interweaving.

Missing is like a jar of fine wine that gets better and better with time, fragrant! It is a sincere wish from a string of jingling wind chimes hung in front of the bed, a white cloud wrapped around the blue sky, and a flying kite wrapped around the long horizon.

Having infinite longing for someone in your heart is a kind of helpless melancholy and a kind of happiness; being missed by someone brings a kind of sad pain and a kind of sweetness. Missing is like a star in the night, twinkling in the depths of the soul, filling the sky with stars in the soul of life. People who have no one to miss and those who have nothing to miss can easily find it difficult to move forward in the dark night and lose their way.

The ruthlessness of the years and the accumulation of time. The longing in my heart can’t help but emerge, and longing makes us mature day by day!

Missing is the partner and confidant who accompanies our growth. He watches every step, every thought and every step on our life path: "Being a stranger in a foreign land alone, every time we meet "I miss my loved ones even more during the festive season" is the longing and blessing of family affection; "I hope you will live forever, thousands of miles away, and the beauty of the moon" is the longing and longing for love; "The tree is thousands of feet high, and the fallen leaves return to their roots" is the deep longing for the homeland; "The long wind blows" There will be times when the waves will break, and the clouds and sails will hang directly on the blue sea." This is the yearning for the lofty ideals!

Savoring our thoughts, our thoughts become more mature and full! Longing is like water or wine, blending each other's roaring hearts into a mellow deep cellar for brewing; missing is like silk or thread, no matter how high or far the kites fly, they are pursuing each other with the same breath and the same passion. Spread your wings.

On cold winter nights, longing gives us warmth like a fire; in frustrated days, longing gives us endless comfort; in the rain, longing is a persistent umbrella; in dreams, longing is carried back. Boat.

The person who misses may be lonely, but not alone; the person who misses may be sad, but not sad; the person who misses may be miserable, but his heart is always burning with the flame of joy, in spring, summer, autumn and winter. In the dream, the grass will always grow and the orioles will fly, and the flowers will bloom... Longing can make time speed up; it will make people feel helpless; longing will make time and space shorten and become closer; longing will make our lives full of vitality; The aftertaste is sweet; the longing fills our lives with flowers, sunshine, and endless love. Essay on Fragrance 8

When I passed by the vegetable market, I heard a crisp cry: "Fresh rice dumplings, fresh rice dumplings, 2 yuan each!" I followed the call and saw a man in his thirties. women are selling rice dumplings. The pure and unique aroma of the rice dumplings hit my nostrils, and I bought four of them without hesitation.

I don’t remember when I started to have a special feeling for zongzi. I love eating rice dumplings, because the mellow rice dumpling aroma and the strong maternal love have been accumulated in the depths of my memory, emitting a pure fragrance and reminding me of infinite beautiful memories.

Nowadays, you can buy rice dumplings in supermarkets or small stalls, and the packaging is exquisite and beautiful. However, I feel as if there is always something missing. It is far from as beautiful as my mother's wraps when I was a child, and the taste is not as refreshing. In my memory, on the day before the Dragon Boat Festival every year, every household in our village would make rice dumplings. That morning, every household will go to their respective bamboo forests to collect large bamboo leaves. After returning home, they will soak them in hot water for three to four hours. After all the ingredients were prepared, the aunts and aunts gathered in groups in the house to perform a rice dumpling-making performance: while they were making rice dumplings, they were chatting about whose children were promising and whose crops were particularly good. topics like that. In their laughter, bamboo leaves and raw materials flew in their hands, and small and exquisite rice dumplings with sharp edges were formed in their flexible hands. We kids were arguing endlessly on the sidelines, "This is mine, that is yours!" The eager look seemed like we were about to eat the fragrant rice dumplings. The sisters who are older than us are much cuter. They are imitating the old man to make rice dumplings. After clumsily drawing the gourd, the rice dumplings tied with five flowers are taking shape one after another, but they are of different sizes, and some are not tied yet. Rice grains leaked out from the cracks, making us laugh on the sidelines.

After the rice dumplings are wrapped, they must be cooked slowly over low heat for a whole night. On the morning of the Dragon Boat Festival, it was just dawn. The first thing my brother and I did after getting up was to rush to the kitchen. At this time, the kitchen was steaming and filled with the faint fragrance of rice dumplings, which was mouth-watering. At this time, we didn't care about washing our faces and gargling our mouths. We took out one or two small rice dumplings from the steaming pot without hesitation. The wet rice dumplings were so hot that we kept changing them from the left hand to the right hand, and then from the right hand to the left hand. There was nothing to eat after a while, so we had to hold the rice dumplings in both hands and blow on them. Mother didn't know when she would appear behind us. Seeing our anxious expressions, she would give each of us a bowl and say, "Don't be in a hurry, eat slowly!" Can we not be in a hurry? Looking forward to the stars, looking forward to the moon, looking forward to the early arrival of this day. After the rice dumplings cooled down a little, we couldn't wait to peel off the leaves, use a chopstick to pierce the snow-white and crystal-clear rice dumpling meat, put the rice dumplings in a bowl filled with sugar or honey, roll them gently, and then put them in a bowl. Hold it high above your head, bite it slowly, your mouth and tongue will be filled with saliva, it will not be greasy or sticky, and the aroma will be secreted into your heart. At that time, we felt that nothing could be happier than this moment.

Now, I have been working for ten years. As the years go by and the pressure from all aspects increases, I gradually develop the dependence and laziness of modern people, and I am used to using cash to buy food. Due to the convenience, the enthusiasm for inheriting traditional folk crafts has been lost. Only after receiving the fragrant rice dumplings sent by my mother during the festival, did I feel ashamed. I felt that my mother had given me too much, but I had given too little to my mother. Nowadays, facing these four fragrant rice dumplings, I no longer have the excitement I had when I was a teenager, but they evoke my beautiful memories of rice dumplings. Prose about fragrance 9

Flowers have their own fragrance, because they are waiting to bloom inadvertently. Clouds have their own vastness, because they float in and out of fantasy. The forest has its own tranquility, because it is densely shaded from the sun inadvertently. Life has its own sweetness, because you feel at peace inadvertently.

I hope time cannot wash away the agarwood of time, how good she and I are. When I was a child, I always loved running under the blue sky, but my mother always sat on the grass with me, laughing so heartily. She always caressed my lower body gently, touched my hair, and raised my little hand. Staring at me intently, she showed the most natural smile with the corners of her mouth raised. "Mom, why is the sky blue?" "Because the blue contrasts with the white clouds." Such a simple conversation has witnessed my growth. Our heads rested on our heads, shoulder to shoulder, and our hearts rested on our hearts. With no distracting thoughts and tender maternal love, our true childhood selves inadvertently precipitated the purest and happiest fragrance.

Thirteen years have passed, and I am thirteen years old. Afraid that the light will cover the clearest eyes, afraid that busyness will dilute me and her. Whenever I go home on the weekend, I am full of complaints and can no longer calm down, I am impetuous and impetuous. I saw my mother always lowering her head, busy helplessly, and sighed deeply.

She poured a glass of water, and listening to the sound of water, she slowly walked into my room. She gently handed me the glass of water, "Drink some water, don't put too much pressure on yourself." She patted my back, her brows furrowed, and her deep eyes revealed the helplessness full of vicissitudes of life. . We lay on the bed together without saying anything. I seemed to hear the blood flowing, because we are a family. Just like that, the lost self threw herself into her mother's arms, without losing the enthusiasm of the year but with more traces of time. My mother's hair is no longer black, but has gray silver threads, and her skin is no longer delicate, but has the wrinkles of time. The only thing that remains unchanged is the original intention. In these ordinary days, let's spend the beautiful moments hand in hand.

I don’t know what the days ahead will be like, but they were so ordinary before I left her. Her back will be bent, her heart will not be so strong, and her concern for me will be the most sincere repayment for her without any reason. He gently took her hand, stroked her silver hair, and handed her a glass of water that smelled of growth. The years are quiet and it is good to listen to the wind. Prose about Fragrance 10

Hey, the boy who is running wildly, can you slow down a little? Don’t miss it: the clear river is flowing with you, and every drop of water is a dream you once had: around you The flowers are in full bloom, and the fragrance of the flowers is your best companion; in front of you, there are beaches and waves, and you can feel the warmth from the distant sea breeze.

Life is like a song, and rich experiences compose every chapter for you. If you want to play a loud note, you have to bravely go for it. Soak up the sunshine and cast the shade in your life. I wonder if you have seen that in every corner that is easily ignored, there are small desires, quietly growing in the sunshine and rain. These are your most insignificant ideals, and they will go with you to poetry and distance.

There are four seasons in a year. Spring is the signpost for the beginning of your dream. Here you have your initial bravery: summer is the inevitable comfort and hardship during the journey. You will encounter the heat and long for coolness: autumn is for you. The joy of a good harvest is also the joy of looking back at the past and embracing success: winter has already become twilight, just like every past memory is imprinted on your heart that has been carved by the passing years.

Time flies, and recalling is also yearning. When your wine is mellow, your thoughts are joyful, and you have dreams now, why be afraid of sadness? After all, life is short, you can only cherish every smile, harvest every ray of fragrance along the way, and pick a ray of warm sunshine to keep you company. Be rampant and wanton, and the only thing your heart desires is your dream. Even if the journey is long, you will still ride the wind and waves and sow the light.