Help me find some famous writers to write articles or fragments of Snow, and the sentences are ok, thank you ~

The sun is shining, but the wind is strong. The leaves of the paulownia on Ruijin Road finally fell. That girl once asked me again and again, brother, is winter coming?

Yes, the newspaper says it will snow in Nanjing on Friday. Maybe winter has really begun.

You said it was good to snow. You like it best, but is it heavy?

I said, not much. This is xiaoxue. I can't see it when I land.

You pout, so it's better than nothing.

Yes, the earth is too impetuous to hold the seeds of the sky.

It seems that every winter's mood is as transparent and dense as frozen water. So I thought of Bandelli's first snow, which is as soft as snow, as clear as water, as beautiful and sad as love. Therefore, if you choose the tune as the background music of the bridge version, the listener may have his own understanding, but this music really penetrates the soul and gives you unprecedented peace and tranquility.

I remember that in February of 200 1, 1, I was drinking alone in a bar in Xinjiekou, and I was very lonely and depressed. When I didn't want to drink that day, the host said I won the lottery. The prize is a cup with a Christmas snow scene painted on the outside, filled with hot water and the sound of music. When I was walking in the street with a cup in my arms, the city was surrounded by snow. Thick snowflakes fell quietly from the invisible sky, on clothes and all over the body. I raised my glass and filled it with the first snow in winter, but the music froze at this time.

After that, this music cup became a companion. At that time, I was very unhappy at work and always wanted to escape and run away. However, I still didn't have the courage in the end. On weekends, standing on the balcony, a cup full of water, under the sunshine, gives off a beautiful melody, and I feel satisfied.

I always like to wrap myself up, like a box that can't be opened without a password, always separated from others by an insurmountable obstacle. I like loneliness, I like sadness, I like walking alone under the city wall, which is a person's scenery. Of course, a person is like a tree in winter. After all the leaves fall, life feels powerless, and he is often full of pessimism and despair about the world. In September, 2003, after an online story happened accidentally, my music cup was broken, and a person's scenery gradually became noisy.

In February, 2003, I went to a live broadcast of a Nanjing edition gathering and met the host Han Yilan. Her eyes are blue and she has a very good impression of me. That feeling is actually a bit intimate. Just like me and the college counselor, she is several years older than me, but we can also find this feeling between us. That kind of feeling can't be said, but my heart is touched. This kind of touching is purely a kind of spiritual appreciation, a kind of closeness. I drank a lot of wine that day, including white wine, beer, northeast sorghum wine, foreign wine and red wine. When the program ended, everyone was shocked. I don't know when the snow covered the ground. These adults are laughing in the snow, opening their arms to melt the snow on their faces.

On the overseas Chinese road, Han stepped on a road in the snow, and her running back is still printed in my mind. Because I haven't seen her since then, and now she is in distant France. It is a romantic country, and I think she can really match her temperament there. After I came back, I wrote a poem, posted it on their board and gave it to her, the cabbage heart sister.

There are no lovers in the snow

Is that you?

In the shadow of snow

Every white tone your hand touches.

The snow is melting quietly.

I seem to hold your tears.

It is hotter and colder than fire.

It can burn me to ashes.

You can hang me under the eaves in the morning.

Waiting for the bird's lips

Take me for a walk in the sky

You dance beautifully and sadly.

Knock on the face that longs for spring.

They are laughing.

Like loneliness hidden in your eyes

Only you know forever.

When did I stop lying to you?

I run like an idiot.

The body is all over the earth.

Even in the most unlikely places.

Leave every drop of my blood.

Be your signpost

I can't miss seeing you again.

My love.

Do you know

I'm afraid the snow has stopped.

I'll never find you again

These are two deep memories of snow in my mind. We all like snow. Snow can remind people of beauty, and the most beautiful thing in memory is love, perhaps not love. Melancholy and tears are also a kind of beauty in winter, just like the euphemistic plot of life and death in Winter Love Song.

This year, I seldom write my own words. Today is the only one. Even at work now, I still listen to the first snow with my ears and immerse myself in my own world. When a person has more time for everyone, he must turn around and look for his own shadow. If you can't even find yourself, you may doubt the necessity of your existence.

Responder: Love stays in the world-Scholar II 1-2 13:32

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Yangguanxue

In ancient China, once a scholar, he didn't have a full view. The glory of civil servants lies in officials, not in literature. As a scholar,

In officialdom, there is also a lack of satisfaction. However, things are strange. When the electronic portal has been smashed into mud, a bamboo pen appears by chance.

Scribbled poems can engrave mountains and rivers, engrave people's hearts and never ramble.

I was destined to look up at Bai Di City on a river boat at dusk and climb the Yellow Crane Tower with thick autumn frost, or in a winter.

I touched Hanshan Temple in the evening. There are many people around me, and almost all of them are echoing songs that don't need to be quoted.

This poem describes. People come to look for scenery as well as poetry. They can recite these poems when they are young. Children's imagination, sincerity

And realistic. So these cities, these buildings, these temples are all built in their own hearts. They didn't realize it until they were old.

When I have enough strength, I will also bear heavy debts for myself, and I am eager to set foot in the field of poetry.

Visit. For childhood, for history, for many unspeakable reasons. Sometimes, this longing is like losing your hometown.

Find and visit lost relatives.

The magic of literati can turn such a small corner of the world into a hometown in everyone's heart. Their faded blue shirts.

What magic is hidden in the room?

Today, I went to Yangguan to watch Wang Wei's Song of Besieged City. Before I left, I used to beat the old man in the county where I stayed.

Listen, the answer is: "The road is long and there is nothing to see in Xiu Yuan, but some scholars are trying to find it." The old man looked up.

Day, said: "it will snow for a while, don't suffer this." I bowed to him and turned and got into the snow.

Once out of the small county, it is desert. There is nothing but Snow White, not even a wrinkle can be found.

When traveling in other places, always find a goal for yourself at each road section, stare at a tree, drive there, and then stare at a stone.

Chief, go there. Here, I can't see a target with my eyes open, even a dead leaf and a black spot. So, only

All right, look up at the sky. I've never seen such a complete day. I don't swallow it at all. The edges are quite tight.

The earth is tightly covered. There is a place where genius is called heaven. On such a day, the earth is called the earth. Alone in such a world

Walking alone, the dwarf becomes a giant. Walking alone in such a world, the giant has become a dwarf.

As a result, it cleared up, the wind stopped and the sun cleared up. I didn't expect the snow in the desert to melt so quickly. In an instant, spots appeared on the ground.

Spotted sand bottom, but no wet marks. A few wisps of smoke gradually floated on the horizon, but it was still deepening. I wondered for a long time before I found out,

This is a ridge that has just melted snow.

The bumps on the ground have become a shocking exposition, and there can only be one understanding: they are tombs of distant times.

It's far from the county seat, and it's unlikely to be the burial place of city people. These tombs were eroded by snow and influenced by age.

Collapse, emaciation, depression, obviously no one has ever offered sacrifices to sweep. Why are there so many and arranged so closely? Only possible

There is an understanding that this is an ancient battlefield.

I walked blankly in the endless grave, and Eliot's The Waste Land came to my mind. This is the history of China.

Wasteland: like the horseshoe of rain, like the cry of thunder, like the blood of notes. The loving mother in the central plains has white hair, and the spring boudoir in the south of the Yangtze River is far away, Hunan Lake.

Cry at night. Farewell to my hometown in Liu Yin, the general glared at me and hunted military flags in the north wind. With a puff of smoke,

Another puff of smoke drifted away. I believe that the deceased, such as husband, are facing the enemy lines in northern Shuobei; I believe they really want to.

Looking back at the last moment, give a look to the familiar land. As a result, they twisted down and became sand piles.

Seats.

I wonder if this starry sand pile has been exchanged by historians for half a line of ink? Historians turned these documents page by page.

Yes, this land has also been buried layer by layer. A mountain with 25 histories, the pages written on this wasteland are still more than

It is even more glorious, because it is, after all, a remote area of the kingdoms of past dynasties, and it has long shouldered the heavy responsibility of defending the territory of China. So,

These sand piles are still standing comfortably, and these pages can still rattle. Like dry, cold and monotonous land, it appears in

The historical proposition of the northwest frontier is also relatively simple. In the Central Plains, it is different, with mountains and rivers, flowers, and a maze of years.

It will make the clearest mind swell and faint, and the sound of the morning bell and the evening drum is always so secretive and surly. There, it's not that big.

Carelessly spread the sand, everything is stuffy in the heavy Miri, Malaysia, countless souls who died for unknown reasons can only be aggrieved and unhappy.

Deep underground. Unlike here, I can show a dry history and let me touch it with the pace of the 20th century. remote

There are already trees in the shadows. In a hurry, there is water under the tree and sand has high and low slopes. Climbing up a slope, I looked up and saw

There is a barren mound on the mountain not far away, and I am convinced by intuition that this is Yangguan.

More and more trees and houses began to appear. That's right, where the important pass is, the military forces are stationed there, and they are indispensable.

Some. Turn a few corners, then go straight up a sand slope, climb to the bottom of the mound, look around, there is a monument nearby, engraved with "Yangguan".

Ancient address "four words.

This is a commanding height overlooking the four fields. The northwest wind thundered in Wan Li and came straight. After a few steps, it stopped. Feet are

I stopped, but I clearly heard my teeth chattering. My nose must be red with cold soon. Oh, a hot air blows into your palm,

Cover your ears and jump hard a few times before you settle down and open your eyes. The snow here doesn't melt, of course not. The so-called ancient sites have been

There is no trace, only the nearby beacon tower is still there. This is the mound just seen below. Most of the mounds have collapsed,

You can see layers of sediment, layers of reeds and reeds flying out, trembling in the cold wind after thousands of years. It's northwest now.

The mountains are covered with snow, layer after layer, extending to the sky. Anyone standing here will feel that they are standing in a big place.

On the rocks by the sea, those mountains are frozen waves.

Wang Wei is really gentle to the extreme. For such sunshine, his pen is still not sharp or scary, just

Touching and elegant: "There is no reason to persuade you to drink more." He glanced at the green outside the Acropolis Guest House.

Liu Se looked at her friend's packed bags and lifted the hip flask with a smile. Have another drink, you can't find it outside the sun.

An old friend who can talk about drinks like this. This cup of wine, friends must not refuse, drink it off.

This is the demeanor of the Tang Dynasty. Most of them will not cry and lament, but will discourage them. Their eyes are far away, and their people

The road of life is widely circulated. Parting is frequent and the steps are open. This style, in Li Bai, Gao Shi, Cen Can,

More and more heroic. Among the ancient statues in the north and south, the statues of the Tang people can be recognized at a glance, and their bodies and eyes are so strong.

So calm and confident. When you see Mona Lisa's smile in Europe, you can feel it immediately. This natural self-confidence is only

It belongs to an artist who really woke up from a nightmare in the Middle Ages and was quite sure of his future. This kind of smile only appears in the statues of the Tang Dynasty.

Will be more calm and serene. In Europe, these artists have been making trouble for a long time, stubbornly trying to lose their smiles.

Into the soul of history. Anyone can figure out how many years after the Tang Dynasty. But in the Tang Dynasty, it didn't.

The confidence of an artist is timeless. The snowstorm in Yangguan is becoming more and more sad.

Wang Wei's poems and paintings are unique, and the boundary between poetry and painting, which has been repeatedly discussed by western philosophers such as Lessing, is now within his reach.

Yes But the palace in Chang 'an only opened a narrow side door for artists to bow as humble attendants.

Go in and have fun. The old man in history stood in awe, turned and left, trembling again to the Sect of Three Emperors and Five Emperors.

Spectrum. Here, there is no need for art to make a big fight, and there is no need to have too deep sustenance for beauty.

As a result, Kyushu's painting style is gloomy. Yangguan, it is no longer difficult to enjoy warm and mellow poems. There are still scholars in the west who go out of Yangguan.

Yes, but most of them became officials and ministers.

Even mounds and stone cities can't stand so many sighs, and the sunshine has collapsed in the essence of a nation.

In the realm of god. Will eventually become a ruin, a wasteland. Behind him, sand graves are like tides, and in front of him, cold peaks are like waves. No one can imagine

Son, 1000 years ago, I once verified the magnificence of life and the vastness of artistic feelings.

There should be several voices of Hu Jia and Qiangdi here. The timbre is extremely beautiful, harmonious with nature and fascinating. Unfortunately, it all turned out.

The wailing in the hearts of the soldiers. Since a nation can't bear to hear it, they disappear in the north wind.

Go home, it's getting late. I'm afraid it will snow again.