What are some prose or poems about "travel"?

1. Fan Zhongyan’s writings, the eternity of travel in time

With a few poems and a drawing, Fan Zhongyan has given us a vivid and vivid picture. Dialectical and dynamic picture. Today, the painted buildings and carved beams are still there, and the water, light and clouds are still rippling. However, the scenery we see is not the same as before. In the past, the turbid waves were emptied, in the past there was floating light leaping into gold, in the past there were all kinds of weather, in the past the sunrise and sunset were overcast. This Dongting has not changed, the vastness is clear at a glance; the words have not changed, the rhyme is sonorous and pleasing to the gods. However, this scene in words is completely different from the scene in our hearts, not to mention the scenery we see or do not see.

Yes, don’t be happy with things and don’t be sad with yourself. It sounds easy to say it, but it is extremely difficult to do it.

Who should I watch the scenery with, or you? I will hold your hand and feel the different scenery with the warmth.

You said, the world is so big, and we always explore it in a blind way. Sometimes we are complacent and self-righteous; sometimes we are discouraged and have dim hopes. ” And I said, “Sometimes, I am the world, and sometimes, the world is you.” The same goes for looking at the scenery. "——Take you to see the scenery. Who you see the scenery with and how you see it are more important. After experiencing it, even if you cannot reach the end or the other shore, as long as you have experienced it, it will be forever. It is based on this, "Take it with you" "Fuck you" or "Take me with you" to see the real scenery.

——Ah, what a mental journey this is!——There is no time, no place here, only an endless journey. , only you and me... looking at the stamens of epiphyllum, listening to the sound of falling leaves, reading the wordless sounds of nature, thinking about the empty wilderness... recording this moment with pictures and hearts.

2 , the traveling poetry fairy, Taibai sings about nature in the most suave Chinese

Traveling with the poets, with his unruly head held high and his mind filled with vast knowledge, he chants thousands of miles of rivers and mountains, swallows the rain from Mount Wu, and hides everything. In the beautiful scenery of rivers and mountains, one comes in a long robe, a white collar, and a feather fan scarf, and rides away gracefully on horseback - like the wind, entering joy... When I am happy, my horse flies away, when I am sad, I search for it, when I am depressed, I am depressed. When I am sad, the morning breeze wanes, and when I am pregnant, I sing to the wine - the music is so melodious that I chant and weep, and feel sad and choked; I sing and whistle generously, and the wine is filled with wine and the mellow fragrance is intoxicating...

Yes, with the bamboo branches collected by Liu Yuxi in my arms, wearing the sword that the Poet Immortal wields in the world of mortals, listening to Jia Dao's hesitant intoxication knocking on the door, watching the poetic heroism in the Drunkard's Pavilion in Xiangshan, I ascend to Poetry The three mountains and five mountains that are beyond the reach of the saints, explore the tranquility of the Wangmojie Qingquan Stone, or have a romantic affair with the bright moon tangled with the absinthe wormwood in the Miluo River, or dream of a romantic mist and rain of pink and white in the Six Dynasties of Jiangnan, explore the beauty of the gold and iron horses The straight smoke in the desert, listening to the distant ringing of the Hanshan Temple bell, lights up the moonlit night of the Spring River, reciting the poetry of music, chess, calligraphy, painting and poetry, coming for singing and dancing, leaving for the wine and delicacies, and the drunken man. The intention is not to drink, even if Jun Moxiao is lying drunk on the battlefield, no matter whether he is drunk or not, he will say goodbye happily...

Drunk at the foot of Mount Emei, let the shadow of the years be crushed in the fine silver light of the Pingqiang moon. , in the romantic look back at me holding the moon in my hand, filling my clothes with the fragrance of flowers; in the water of Bashan and Shu, which is difficult to climb to the sky; in the sigh of stroking the water with my hand; in the lake, the moon shines on my shadow, sending me to Shan From this point of view, not a poet can sing, even if he drinks wine for nine days and nine nights, even if he breaks three thousand wine cups, even if he is burdened with wine, he can recite it with the most brilliant poem. The beautiful scenery in his poetry. He brings us the most romantic soaring journey. Therefore, traveling with Li Bai and being romantic with Shixian are always psychedelic, magnificent, beautiful and simple. The so-called poet's writing is rather a reflection of what the poet expects of human beings.

How beautiful and poetic this scenery is.

Ah. , what a journey of heart this is! ——There is no time, no place, only endless journeys, only you and me... Look at the stamens of the epiphyllum, listen to the sound of fallen leaves, read the sound of nature without words, and think about the emptiness and silence. The wilderness... records this moment through pictures and hearts.

3. Hiking through the mountains and rivers with the painters with all your heart's content.

Travel with the painters and carry the whole world on your back. The country, dye all the white hair black, step on three thousand iron shoes, cross the broken bridge and wade through the running water, clear the smoke from the kitchen to mix the ink, please use the moonlight to paint the pen, please use the clouds and rain of Wushan to render it, please paint it with the red sun day and night.

With Gu Kaizhi's "Pictures of Luo Shen Fu" in mind, I copied Zhao Mengfu's "Tao Te Ching"; using the sky as the drawing board, all the sun, moon and stars are scenery; using the earth as the drawing, all the clouds, mist and snow They are all howling wolves; if reality is replaced by fiction, all illusions are reality; if fiction is replaced with reality, all the past is just floating clouds. Invite Yan Liben to come and lead eight great scholars to watch Wu Daozi leave gracefully; ask Xu Beihong to ride on his horse that flies by but never moves forward; ask Qi Baishi to send the transparent shrimp. Plums, orchids, bamboos, chrysanthemums, poems, wine, flowers, and tea are all so beautiful, ancient vines, old trees, dusky crows, small bridges, flowing water, and people are at ease and far away - and the paintings are outside the mountains and rivers, and the feelings are between the mountains and rivers - - What penetrates the back of the paper is not strength, nor ink marks, but tears, sweat, blood...

Whether it is flying dragons and phoenixes, or strength penetrates the back of the paper; rice paper rolls turn into white snow in the sky, and thousand-year-old green hair is solidified on the table. What is freehand is not the world itself. The scene expresses the painter's mind and spirit.

When it is flying, the dust is swirling, but he is no longer in the world of mortals. When he is down, the withered vines and old trees, but he, have long gone away with the flowing water. The paper calcifies into clouds and mist, and his thoughts condense into eternity. The painter, who has written thousands of poems, staggers away.

Even a few lines of square characters, horizontal, vertical, left and right, are all within a short distance; regular script, official script, running cursive and willow script are swaying - this scenery, this landscape, this nature is the keynote, and it returns to nature On the rice paper rendered in everlasting black and white, perhaps, the comb of time freezes the mist of small bridges, flowing water, mountain peaks, and strange trees. In the study where only pen, ink, paper and inkstones are left, there is only a beautiful figure of Yan Ruyu who spends time in the back.

——Ah, what a journey this is! ——There is no time, no place, only endless journeys, only you and me... Look at the stamens of the epiphyllum, listen to the sound of fallen leaves, read the wordless sounds of nature, and think about the empty and silent wilderness... Record it with pictures and soul. With this mood at this moment.

4. In the maze of chess flat, find the key to life

Traveling with Yi Qiu, the round sky and square place are considered pings, and the black and white day and night are considered chess. The stars in the sky are scattered and gathered together. Countless storms.

Without a single move, all the chess games are full of blood. Without saying a word, all the words are spoken in the hand. It is not a life story, but a lament that the world is like chess; instead of life being like chess, on the contrary, it is better to be a transparent chess piece, which is clean and full of the eternity of life. Everyone says that there are no equal situations in the world, so why do they end up in the same situation? The same story, the same ending, but with different connotations: sighs and joys, bitterness and sweetness, successes and failures, gains and losses, the trapped person and the unblocked person; am I the chess player, or am I the chess player - wrong one Standing, hating the eternity, taking a step back, the sea and the sky are brighter. We are acting out the familiar world of mortals on the chessboard, but we clearly see ourselves outside the world of mortals. See other people's happiness, achieve your own suffering, listen to other people's stories, and tell your own thoughts. Instead of sitting on the mountain and watching the numbness, it is better to be in purgatory; instead of redefining ourselves, it is better to redefine ourselves.

Perhaps, all choices are not because they create other people's scenery, but because they are deliberately the scenery of self-realization. Become a king or lose a bandit, or change the clouds or rain; make a cup of tea, warm a cup of wine, and make an appointment with a chess friend, it is the eternal scenery. The scenery is in front of you, clearly, and the scenery is in the end, vividly in your mind, but I don’t know if it’s because this life situation is inherently eternal.

With a raised hand, time is frozen, without a word, the true meaning is captured.

——Ah, what a journey this is! ——There is no time, no place, only endless journeys, only you and me... Look at the stamens of night-blooming cereus, listen to the sound of fallen leaves, read the wordless sounds of nature, and think about the empty and silent wilderness... Record it with pictures and soul. At this moment.

5. Human geography is the most exquisite business card

Xu Xiake's "Shui Jing Zhu" annotates not the wonders of mountains and rivers; but the vastness of the world. What is written is not that Kyushu is round and round, but that the land is vast and rich in resources, mountains are connected to mountains, and water is the same as water. I don’t know the true face of Mount Lu, just because I am in this mountain. This geography, humanities, and mountains and rivers are not used to search for things according to pictures, not to use trees to find fish, not to carve boats to find swords, not to use wonderful pens to make flowers.

It is better to come here than to go by. It is better to go into seclusion than to come. Tao Qian spent his whole life searching for the peach garden in his dream, but he painted a clean Garden of Eden. Martin and Polo used the most psychedelic "guide book" to let the world understand the country within the country, and to look at it with eager eyes from now on; ambition. Greed, plunder and destruction are twin lotuses. It is difficult for you to understand the world, but it is easy for the world to understand you. And Xuan Zang's vast "Records of the Western Regions of the Tang Dynasty" allows us to see the path to seek "Tao" and a completely different interpretation of "Tao". Pay attention to the flower of cultural thought on the other side of "Tao"? Or focus on the scenery along the road? Attention is a premise; concern is a cause and effect. We were darkly lost on the road between Eastern and Western culture, and have since gone astray.

Perhaps, the most beautiful poems are a reincarnation from the beginning of travel to the middle of dreaming, the simplest reminder, the most exquisite business card or trademark.

So, don’t be curious about traveling. Every time you go out, you will not satisfy your previous wishes, but your expectations for the next time. The most beautiful thing is not because of what you saw, but because of the encounter. What, it is not the short-term joy of arriving at the destination, but all the dreams that have been woven in the process of arriving. More people are lost and collapsed in curiosity and disappointment.

Weak hearts and weak bodies are not suitable for travel, even the simplest walk, let alone hiking.

What I appreciate most is Li Bai's unrestrained journey. He saw the beauty of everything we long to see, and it has a strong and mellow taste of Taibai. The least appreciated thing is Du Fu's escape. Every scenic spot is not designed to entertain this most melancholy and frustrated poet.

——Ah, what a journey of heart this is! ——There is no time, no place, only endless journeys, only you and me... Look at the stamens of the epiphyllum, listen to the sound of fallen leaves, read the wordless sounds of nature, and think about the empty and silent wilderness... Record it with pictures and soul. At this moment.