Appreciation of Xi Murong s Ending , Xi Murong s Ending .

The appreciation of Xi Murong's "Ending" The poetry of other poets can also be good poetry, and the most important thing is appreciation.

Xi Murong: The ending.

When spring comes again.

Forgotten wild lilies.

It will still grow in the same valley.

In the thick shade of sheep's teeth.

There will still be the incense of yesteryear.

But there was no one.

No one will remember us.

and the joys and sorrows we've had.

And time went by farther and farther finally.

Only a few anonymous poems remain.

A wipe. A faint slanting sun.

When spring comes again.

Forgotten wild lilies.

It will still grow in the same valley.

In the thick shade of sheep's teeth.

There will still be the incense of yesteryear.

But there was no one.

No one will remember us.

and the joys and sorrows we've had.

And time went by farther and farther finally.

Only a few anonymous poems remain.

A wipe. A faint slanting sun.

When I guessed the answer to the riddle, I realized that the feast had dispersed and everything had passed.

The feast is gone, the people are gone, and you are in the midst of the people, and the twilight is so deep that you can no longer be recognized, and you will not meet again.

But just a moment ago, the garden was still full of joy and laughter, but I could not go in.

They gave me a riddle, and I had to guess it well, and guess it right, so that I could meet you and give me a long-awaited love.

When I guessed the answer to the puzzle, I realized that everything had passed, and the years had already changed the puzzle.

In our world, time is the warp, space is the weft, finely and densely woven a series of joys and sorrows, weaving a very regular yin and yang. And in every corner, in every knot, there is actually a secret mark, we were at a loss, but when we look back, we suddenly find that all the veins are vivid, and only then do we smile and understand the origin of pain and sorrow.

In such a moment of retrospection, time stands still and never passes. The stream that flows in the shadow of sheep's teeth and wild peonies is still young, the sky is full of clouds, and my heart is full of the love and care you have given me.

If people can really be reincarnated, if there is really reincarnation in the world, then, I love, what was our previous life?

If you were a woman who picked lotus in Jiangnan, I would be the one you missed under your wrist. If you had been that truant boy, I would have seen you go away unknowingly in the grass by the roadside, the brand-new marble that fell from your bag. If you were a monk facing the wall, I would have been the pillar of incense in front of the temple, burning, and accompanying you for a quiet time.

Therefore, when we meet in this life, I always feel that there are some unfinished edges, but I am in a trance, and I can't distinguish them carefully, and I can't tell you them one by one.