Stepping into Poetry
Every time I read the poems and songs of China's five thousand years of history, it's like holding a fine wine aged for a thousand years; a gentle sip reveals its rich aroma.
As the scroll unfolds, it intoxicates the soul, washing away worldly cares.
Gently reciting those flowing verses is like a mountain stream cascading over green stones, a forest breeze rustling through branches; each word carries its own rhythm, each sound resonates deep within the heart, and joy ripples gently with the fragrance of ink. Before one's eyes unfolds a magnificent scroll of mountains and rivers; in one's ears lingers the timeless elegance of classical music; and within one's heart surges a deep-seated patriotism. The joys and sorrows of humanity, the sedimentation of time, hidden between the lines, are a masterpiece of tenderness and integrity, captivating the heart and soul, leaving one mesmerized.
The beauty of classical poetry is imbued with tender affection and harbors a romantic pursuit.
"The reeds are green, the dew is white as frost. The one I long for is on the other side of the water." Autumn waters flow, reeds grow tall, frost covers the banks, a thin mist veils the scene, and the beloved stands in the middle of the water, her shadow indistinct, like a dream. We wander along the lines of poetry, stepping into this ethereal and profound realm, embarking on a tender pursuit that is both desirable and unattainable. Our hearts fall into the unique, hazy love of classical poetry, unwilling to awaken. There is also the poignant and delicate expression of human longing: "My clothes grow looser, yet I have no regrets, for I am wasting away for her." And there is the bittersweet expression of unrequited love: "Though we lack the wings of a phoenix to fly together, our hearts are connected by a single thread of understanding." This hazy love, unique to classical poetry, allows us, a thousand years later, to still empathize with its purity and unwavering devotion.
The emotions in classical poetry reveal the great righteousness of family and country, and stubbornly uphold an indomitable spirit.
"The road ahead is long and arduous, but I will persevere in my pursuit." On the banks of the Miluo River, Qu Yuan's long sigh, transcending a thousand years, still resonates powerfully. His dedication to the rise and fall of his nation, his unwavering commitment to righteousness, his refusal to regret even in the face of slander and alienation, his fervent and profound patriotism, and his steadfast adherence to his original aspirations have long been forged into the blood of the Chinese nation, transforming into the indomitable spirit of the nation, shining brightly in the long river of time. "The wind howls, the Yi River is cold, the hero departs, never to return." On the banks of the Yi River, the cold wind howls, and a mournful song echoes. This cry, a hero's resolute decision to die, a vow of chivalrous responsibility, resonates through the ages, becoming an eternal ode etched in the blood of the Chinese people, fully expressing the chivalrous righteousness and unwavering patriotism amidst chaos.
The scenery depicted in classical poetry beautifully captures the essence of the four seasons and the magnificence of the landscape.
In spring, strolling along the shores of West Lake, a warm breeze caresses the face, and new life sprouts from the grass and trees. The vivid scene described by Bai Juyi, "Several early orioles vie for warm branches, and new swallows peck at spring mud," unfolds before your eyes. The warbling of orioles and the chirping of swallows are like pearls falling on jade; before your eyes, willows sway like smoke, their green shadows dancing; to your nose, the fragrance of earth fills the air, refreshing and invigorating. Every step reveals a new vista, a breathtaking panorama of spring. Even reading it a thousand times, one's joy remains undiminished.
In summer, admiring the lotus blossoms, boating on West Lake in June, the lotus breeze carries their fragrance, and the shimmering water reflects Yang Wanli's line, "The lotus leaves stretch to the sky, an endless expanse of green; the lotus blossoms, bathed in sunlight, are a vibrant red," perfectly capturing the ultimate splendor of West Lake in midsummer. Endless lotus leaves stretch to the horizon, their green hue merging with the clear sky; the warm sun shines down, and the lotus blossoms stand tall and graceful, delicate and beautiful, like fairies on the water, their red and green hues contrasting brilliantly, showcasing the gentle yet vibrant beauty of summer in Jiangnan. Seeking tranquility in autumn, I followed the secluded stone path, where "a winding path leads to a secluded spot, where a Zen room is nestled among flowers and trees," ascending the mountainside. The forests were lush and verdant, the flowers and trees abundant, and a sense of Zen pervaded the air. Before my eyes, the once-prosperous incense of the "Four Hundred and Eighty Temples of the Southern Dynasties" seemed to appear. Those magnificent temples, shimmering amidst the green hills and clear waters, were like a fairyland. "How many pavilions and terraces are shrouded in mist and rain?" With the passage of time and the changing dynasties, the former glory has become a thing of the past. Countless pavilions and terraces are now hidden in the misty rain, leaving only a sense of historical vicissitude and melancholy. "The swallows that once graced the halls of the Wang and Xie families now fly into the homes of ordinary people," a sentiment that evokes a sigh for the impermanence of life and the vicissitudes of time.
In winter, admiring the plum blossoms, I strolled leisurely through Lin Bu's small garden. The serene beauty of "sparse shadows slanting across the clear, shallow water, a faint fragrance drifting in the twilight" quietly embraced me. As twilight deepens and the moonlight softens, plum branches slant, their graceful silhouettes delicate and elegant. A subtle fragrance drifts on the breeze, serene and refreshing, soothing the soul. The plum blossoms, pure and refined, noble and dignified, bloom alone in the tranquil twilight, captivating the eye and drawing one to gaze upon them, reluctant to disturb their solitary beauty, and instantly comprehending their noble character: "Not seeking praise for their color, but leaving only their pure fragrance to fill the universe."
If one stands by a river and gazes into the distance, the scene of "A lone sail disappears into the azure sky, only the Yangtze River flows to the horizon" comes vividly to mind. Distant sails dot the blue sky, while the river surges and flows ceaselessly, its vastness and power unstoppable, winding its way towards the horizon. Looking further at the Yellow River, "The Yellow River's waters come from the heavens, rushing to the sea never to return," its waters cascading from the heavens, flowing a thousand miles eastward, surging into the sea—a magnificent and awe-inspiring sight. The majestic and grand scenery of "The Yellow River winds nine times, its sands stretching ten thousand miles, waves tossed and turned by the winds from the ends of the earth" vividly portrays the imposing power of China's mountains and rivers.
Climbing to the summit of Mount Tai, overlooking the surrounding mountains, one is struck by the breathtaking grandeur of "Nature's masterpiece, dividing day and night." North and south of the mountain, dawn and dusk are clearly distinguished, a scene poets have painted with their magical brushes. Standing atop the mountain, one can truly appreciate the vastness of heaven and earth, the magnificence of nature, and feel a surge of ambition, like the line, "I will climb to the highest peak and survey all the mountains below."
Traversing the northern frontier, the spectacular sight of "A lone plume of smoke rises straight from the desert, the setting sun is round over the long river" unfolds before one's eyes. A wisp of smoke rises sharply and straight, winding above the long river, while the round setting sun casts its afterglow, outlining the unique openness, grandeur, and desolate magnificence of the frontier. This unique beauty of the northern frontier—its resilient strength, its bold and unrestrained spirit—evokes longing and haunts the soul. "The desert sands are like snow, the Yanshan moon like a hook," perfectly captures the harmonious blend of strength and gentleness in the northern frontier.
Entering the world of poetry is like entering a soul-searching journey across millennia. Enter its elegance and gentleness, feel its tenderness; enter its grandeur and tragedy, understand its indomitable spirit; enter its magnificence and vastness, appreciate the grandeur of mountains and rivers; enter its seasons, savor the elegance of each.
Entering the world of poetry, even amidst the mundane world, one's heart will be imbued with its warmth and spirit, living with sincerity, composure, and openness, experiencing the tranquil peace of "picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, gazing leisurely at the southern mountains."
Wandering through the pages, one is captivated, the worldly cares forgotten.
Gently reciting those flowing verses is like a mountain stream flowing over green stones, a forest breeze brushing against branches; each word carries its own rhythm, each sound resonates in the heart, and the joy within ripples gently with the fragrance of ink. Before my eyes unfolds a magnificent scroll of mountains and rivers; in my ears lingers the timeless melody of ancient Chinese music; and within my heart surges a deep-seated love for my country and its people. The joys and sorrows of humanity, the sedimentation of time, hidden between the lines, are a masterpiece of tenderness and integrity, captivating and enchanting the soul.
The beauty of classical poetry is imbued with tender affection and harbors a romantic pursuit.
"The reeds are green, the dew is white as frost. The one I long for is on the other side of the water." Autumn waters flow, reeds grow tall, frost covers the banks, a thin mist veils the scene, and the beloved stands in the middle of the water, indistinct and dreamlike. We wander along the lines of poetry, stepping into this ethereal and profound realm, embarking on a tender pursuit that is both desirable and unattainable. Our hearts fall into the unique, hazy love of classical poetry, unwilling to awaken. There are also lines that delicately and poignantly depict the deepest human longing: "My clothes grow looser, yet I have no regrets; for her sake, I grow thin and weary." And there are lines that poignantly express the bittersweet pain of unrequited love: "Though we lack the wings of a phoenix to fly together, our hearts are connected by a single thread of understanding." This unique, hazy love found only in classical poetry allows us, a thousand years later, to still empathize with its purity and unwavering devotion.
The emotions expressed in classical poetry highlight the great righteousness of family and country, and stubbornly embody an indomitable spirit.
"The road ahead is long and arduous, but I will search high and low." Qu Yuan's long sigh on the banks of the Miluo River, transcending a thousand years, still resonates powerfully. His dedication to the rise and fall of his nation, his unwavering commitment to the righteous path, even in the face of slander and alienation, never wavered. His fervent and profound patriotism, his steadfast adherence to his original aspirations, have long been forged into the blood of the Chinese nation, transforming into the indomitable spirit of the nation, shining brightly in the long river of time. "The wind howls, the Yi River is cold, the hero departs, never to return." On the banks of the Yi River, the cold wind howls, and a mournful song echoes. This cry is the resolute determination of a hero facing death, the vow of chivalry and responsibility, resounding through the ages, becoming an eternal ode etched in the blood of the Chinese people, fully expressing the chivalrous righteousness and unwavering patriotism amidst chaos.
The scenery depicted in classical poetry beautifully captures the essence of the four seasons and the magnificence of the landscape.
In spring, strolling along the shores of Qiantang Lake, a warm breeze caresses the face, new grasses sprout, and the vivid scene described by Bai Juyi, "Several early orioles vie for warm branches, whose new swallows peck at spring mud," unfolds before your eyes. The warbling of orioles and the chirping of swallows are like pearls falling on jade; before your eyes, willows are shrouded in mist, their green shadows swaying; to your nose, the fragrance of earth is refreshing. Every step reveals a new vista, the spring scenery intoxicating. Even reading it a thousand times, one will never tire of it.
In summer, one can admire the lotus blossoms, boating on West Lake in June. The fragrant breeze carries the scent of lotus, and the water ripples gently. Yang Wanli's line, "The lotus leaves stretch to the sky, an endless expanse of green; the lotus blossoms, bathed in sunlight, are a vibrant red," perfectly captures the ultimate splendor of West Lake in midsummer. The boundless lotus leaves extend to the horizon, their green hue merging with the clear sky; the warm sun shines down, and the lotus blossoms stand tall and graceful, delicate and beautiful, like fairies dancing on the water. The red and green hues complement each other, creating a vibrant and lively scene, showcasing the gentle yet energetic nature of summer in Jiangnan.
In autumn, one can seek tranquility, following the secluded stone path described as "a winding path leading to a secluded spot, where a Zen room is surrounded by flowers and trees." The mountain forest is lush and verdant, with abundant flowers and trees, exuding a sense of Zen. One can almost see the once-prosperous incense burning brightly in the "four hundred and eighty temples of the Southern Dynasties." The magnificent temple, nestled amidst green hills and clear waters, appears and disappears like a fairyland; "How many pavilions and terraces are shrouded in mist and rain," as the saying goes, with the passage of time and the rise and fall of dynasties, the former glory has become a thing of the past. Countless pavilions and terraces are hidden in the hazy rain, leaving only a sense of historical vicissitude and melancholy. "The swallows that once graced the halls of the Wang and Xie families now fly into the homes of ordinary people," which makes one sigh at the impermanence of life and feel the vicissitudes of time.
In winter, strolling leisurely through Lin Bu's small garden to admire the plum blossoms, the serene beauty of "sparse shadows slant across the clear, shallow water, a faint fragrance drifts in the twilight" quietly enters one's heart. The twilight deepens, the moonlight is soft, the plum branches slant, their graceful shadows sparse and elegant. Wisps of fragrance drift on the wind, quiet and refined, refreshing the soul. The plum blossom, with its pure and elegant form, noble and dignified, blooms alone in the tranquil twilight, captivating the eye and drawing one to its beauty. One hesitates to disturb its solitary and serene beauty, suddenly understanding its noble character: "It doesn't need praise for its color, but only its pure fragrance fills the universe."
If one stands by a river and gazes into the distance, the scene of "A lone sail disappears into the azure sky, only the Yangtze River flows to the horizon" comes vividly to mind. Distant sails dot the blue sky, while the river surges and flows ceaselessly, its vastness and power immense, winding its way towards the horizon. Looking further at the Yellow River, "The Yellow River's waters come from the heavens, rushing to the sea never to return," its waters cascading from the heavens, flowing a thousand miles eastward, surging into the sea—a magnificent and awe-inspiring sight. The majestic grandeur of "The Yellow River winds nine times, its sands stretching ten thousand miles, waves tossed and turned by the wind from the ends of the earth" fully displays the imposing power of China's mountains and rivers.
Climbing to the summit of Mount Tai, overlooking the surrounding mountains, one is overwhelmed by the majestic grandeur of nature's creation, where "yin and yang divide day and night." North and south of the mountain, dawn and dusk are distinctly separated, a scene poets have captured with their magical brushstrokes. Standing atop the mountain, one can truly appreciate the vastness of heaven and earth, the magnificence of nature, and feel a surge of ambition, like the line, "I will climb to the highest peak and survey all the mountains below."
Traversing the northern frontier, the spectacular sight of "a lone plume of smoke rises straight from the desert, the setting sun is round over the long river" unfolds before you. A wisp of smoke rises sharply, winding across the long river, while the round setting sun casts its afterglow, outlining the unique openness, grandeur, and desolate beauty of the northern frontier. This unique beauty of the northern frontier—its strength, resilience, and unrestrained spirit—evokes longing and haunts the soul. "The desert sands are like snow, the moon over Yanshan is like a hook," perfectly capturing the harmonious blend of strength and gentleness in the northern land.
Entering the realm of poetry is entering a soul-searching journey across millennia. Step into its elegance and gentleness, and feel its tenderness; step into its grandeur and tragedy, and experience its noble spirit; step into its magnificence and vastness, and appreciate the grandeur of its landscape; step into its spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and savor the elegance of each season.
Step into poetry, and even if you live in the mundane world, your heart will surely be touched by its warmth and spirit, allowing you to live sincerely, calmly, freely, and openly, experiencing the leisurely tranquility of "picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, gazing leisurely at the southern mountains."