I met with spring in Gannan lyric prose.

I stood in the street for a long time, and the dim street lamp was submerged in the cold of the city.

I haven't walked on such a night for a long time. An umbrella covered me, and my eyes peeped around from under the low umbrella. Quiet, temporarily dispel the glitz and noise of spring.

Tonight, the snow came unexpectedly again. The snow in the depths of space is full of sadness between heaven and earth, and all the troubles and the hesitation of fate are venting. I saw the sudden snowflakes falling under every street lamp like colorful flowers. Rain hits pear blossoms and the wind blows them away? ..... I seem to have slipped into an ancient dreamland and wandered among the peach blossoms. I can't help myself. I don't know where this restless soul will be placed.

This is a beautiful night. I walked through the empty street, and in the air full of the smell of snow, I smelled a little sweetness like flowers. Snowflakes scattered in succession spread nature everywhere, occupying this troubled world wantonly. At this time, a stray dog wandered over, and it seemed to tell me that its loneliness and hunger were burning in its body. Its clumsy figure searched all the way around the corner and jumped into the darkness at the end of the intersection. I thought, why can't it feel the warmth and coldness of the world?

A thick fluffy layer of snow fell on the street trees. In the silence, the sound of falling snow is so soft. Outside your umbrella, in your ear, you can only concentrate on capturing this wonderful rhythm. So, I reached out and touched it skillfully, piece by piece, and gently melted in my palm. Cold joy penetrated the heart, and an inexplicable joy condensed in the brow.

Tonight, I am in Gannan snowy area. Tonight, I enjoy the snow alone and sing a monologue on a spring night.

I wandered alone in the cold street, and the snow followed me. Snow will share the boundless loneliness with me, and snow will hold out the inner sweetness and spread it to the world.

It opens in spring. The snow tonight, what an untimely complaint!

Walking along the center of the square, the circle formed by footprints arches a white marble conch on it. I stared for a long time, and I looked up, trying to understand some piety in the Five In the snow. But my wisdom is beyond my heart, and the source of my thoughts has already dried up. I finally covered up my anxiety with the ridicule of failure, and I hobbled away without interest.

I smell the flowers again. A huge cypress tree in the flower bed bent its branches sadly, and the patches covered with snow showed purple, and a faint fragrance floated on the ground. A woman's mind is filled with snow at night. I was so addicted to it that I felt a strange warm current wake up yesterday. Fragments of lush years, gains and losses of half-life, emerge one by one tonight.

Snow, cheerful as pear-blossom withered snow, is warm with me in a corner at night and kisses me gently.

At midnight, the snow didn't mean to stop. It forgot to splash ink and waved monochromatic dyes, smearing a world of black and white pictures in the excitement of drunkenness.

The umbrella opened a blank between heaven and earth. I stood on the snowy street and glanced at the flashing neon advertisement. The diffuse snowflakes have enveloped this small grassland town, and the footprints of stray dogs have been lost in invisibility.

At the gate of a bank, a tramp curled up in a pile of broken bags, and a flickering light-a cigarette butt at the corner of his mouth-revealed his feelings in the dark. Or, such a passer-by, in Syracuse Lingcheng, is destined to embrace a sleepless spring tonight, instead of just enjoying everything we fantasize and have. ...

(2)

Early in the morning, I went into the wilderness to look for the ghost of last night.

When the grassland in Zhou was wrapped in heavy snow. I slipped into a dilapidated park in the suburbs along the Geer River. In the once lush space, there are only a few tall Yang Shulin. The people who used to sneak in have scattered in a corner of the park, and several buildings surrounded by scaffolding stand among them. Yesterday, the machine on the noisy dust temporarily lost the noise of this era.

Quiet. Let's have this place. A kind of urban despair seems to follow. There are no more lovers in the forest, and a group of free-range pigs are playing around. Occasionally disturbed by a pheasant flying in the grass.

Snow covered the surface of the earth last night. Grass, green branches and leaves, seems to have nothing under the snow. A shallow stream runs through the grass, meanders through the quiet picture in front of us, penetrates the deep artistic conception and disappears. A white sparrow elf, jumping back and forth by the stream, looking for any dessert that can be wrapped in his stomach.

Walking in the forest, a deep gloom and chill hit the whole body, a shallow rut disappeared at the end of the forest, and a pile of snow lying on the branches quietly shook off. I waited under the tree, letting all kinds of fantastic feelings jump out of my body, trying to interpret the breath of spring and life from my eyes around me. Where did Shangri-La's holy hand come from?

A white tower stands quietly, waiting for the arrival of devout believers.

On the surrounding paths, the snow has long been cleaned up, and the lit incense is floating in the forest. I don't know yet. Can we wait for the hearts of ordinary people to approach this pure land? I feel like a dead body. I have been away from the Buddha's edge and living in dirty things. How can we easily shed the dusty shell, kneel before God, get through bodhicitta and nirvana?

I stood by the tower and suddenly realized. The origin of the world of mortals is bound to fall, and the past lives are reincarnated, writing the legend of fate. I don't know that what is immortal is the great love stationed in the world, which is the true meaning I have painstakingly searched for. So, with some happiness, I slipped my footprints in the snow and walked out through the forest.

Approaching an artificial pond, I suddenly caught a glimpse of my strange expression on the bright water, and the surging wave surface distorted the reflection of the tree infinitely. I lost my heart. I feel relieved. Isn't this just like your own life-ups and downs? What you see may always be a mirage, and what is covered by appearances is our real existence.

And I didn't sink too long, facing my heart and myself.

I have been looking for it. I went upstream along this stream. Where did it come from? I beat the grass again and again with my hard ankle, trying to implant mystery into the hinterland of the week. I hold a little of my own ideas, but I can't pry open the cold snow seal.

In this way, I am in the snowy area for a week, in the spring of the wilderness, holding my future and whispering.