Slow voice 500 words, feeling Slow Voice .

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Slow Voice" Li Qingzhao.

Looking for and seeking, cold and lonely, miserable and miserable. When it is warm and cold, it is the most difficult to rest. Three glasses and two light wines, how can he be the enemy, and the wind is in a hurry late!

The geese have also passed. It's sad, but it's an old acquaintance. Yellowfare flowers are piled up all over the ground.

Haggard and damaged, who can pick it now! Guarding the window. How can you be born black alone?

Sycamore is more and drizzle, to dusk, bit by bit. This time, what a sad word!

When it comes to ancient poetry, Li Bai, Du Fu, and Bai Juyi are the first to be mentioned. But in terms of words, the talented woman is only Li Qingzhao, who is known as "not a family", which has a great influence!

The female lyricist Li Qingzhao's later life was turbulent, especially after her husband Zhao Mingcheng died of illness, and her situation was even more lonely and desolate.

This word borrows the autumn scenery to express sorrow, breaking the boundary between the upper and lower parts, and focusing on the description of the scenery, and these scenes are related to sorrow. At the beginning, after always writing the environment and the heart of the hidden feelings, the following layers of narration, step by step, in turn to write autumn air, autumn wind, autumn geese, autumn flowers, stool Biqiu rain, these scenes together create a sad atmosphere, it can be said that the lyricist is touching the old sorrow, the grievances gradually accumulate, and finally can not be suppressed, this article ends, rushing out of the desperate cry of "what a sad word".

The country has perished, the husband has passed away, and the memories we once had—those treasures of gold and stone—have all disappeared with them. I was alone in this unfamiliar place, but I didn't know what I was looking for. After all, time has passed, and this full head of gorgeous hair has also covered all the past.

In the deserted room, only memories of myself working hard remained. Thinking back to the past, I was drunk and happy, and I was angry with my bookish business and laughing. Now he is alone in the empty house, in his last years, and he is miserable and crying.

The weather was unpredictable, sometimes cold and sometimes hot, which disturbed my mood and made it impossible for me to adjust and maintain my body. In this sad day, pour wine alone and worry alone. It's a cold day, and even the wine is tasteless and bland.

Could it be that the sorrow in my heart diluted the strong wine? Despite this, the slightest bit of strength of the wine did not resist the cold evening wind. Perhaps, the wind is not cold, it is my heart that is cold.

The cold comes out of my heart, and I'm afraid I can't warm myself at this time. While he was drinking to drown his sorrows, the familiar geese flew overhead. Dayan, we are old friends, do you remember when I crossed to the south, you and I walked together?

Do you remember the letter I tied to your feet to my husband? Now, now? Sauvignon Blanc, can't be accompanied by a long time, ah......

The yellow chrysanthemums piled up on the ground, and they no longer had the luxuriance and vitality they had at that time. No one picks flowers for me now. Even if it is a broken flower, my sorrow will be reduced, and where is the person who once picked flowers for me?

Guarding the window and watching the clouds roll in the sky, how did you get through until it was dark? The rain fell with tears and hit the plane trees. Sycamore sent acacia, that little raindrop, once again hooked my memories.

Hit on the tree, hit the heart, it has been with the flowing water to the end of the world, the withered heart, weathered the love of that year, never found, a light and shallow trace. I can't help myself! How can this kind of situation be trapped in the word "sorrow"?

Just because I know that flowers, like me, are just passers-by of time. Since time has chosen me, why should I be sad, why not just write my own words.