Does anyone know who wrote the Wisteria Falls?

Zong Pu, formerly known as Feng Zhongpu.

Cultural Revolution writers".

"Wisteria Falls" is an essay by contemporary writer Zong Pu, selected from the 7th issue of Fujian Literature in 1982. Original text of "Wisteria Falls":

I couldn't help but stop.

I have never seen such a blooming vine, only a brilliant lilac, like a waterfall, hanging down from the sky, not its beginning, nor its end, but only a deep and light purple, as if flowing, laughing, and growing.

The large purple banner shone with a little silver light, like a splash of water. When I looked closely, I realized that it was the lightest part of each purple flower, teasing each other with the sun.

The spring red here has been gone, there is no crowd of people enjoying the flowers, and there are no bees and butterflies. Some of them are the shining, blooming vines of this tree. The flowers are next to each other, one after another, pushing and squeezing each other, so lively and lively!

I'm blooming! "They're laughing.

I'm blooming! "They yelled.

Each spike is in full bloom at the top and waiting to be released at the bottom. The color is light at the top and dark at the bottom, as if the purple has settled down in the most tender and smallest buds. Each blooming flower resembles a small sail with a pointed bottom under it.

The cabin was bulging, like a smile that was about to bloom. What kind of fairy dew elixir is there? I went up and wanted to pick one.

But I didn't pick it up. I don't have the habit of picking flowers. I just stood and stared, feeling that this wisteria waterfall was not only in front of my eyes, but also flowing slowly in my heart.

Flowing and flowing, it took away the anxiety and grief that had been pressing on my heart all the time, which was about the mystery of life and death, the brotherhood. I am immersed in the brilliance of this dense flower, and nothing else exists for the time being, only the tranquility of the spirit and the joy of life.

In addition to the brilliance, there is also a faint fragrance, and the fragrance seems to be light purple, which gently envelops me like a dream. I suddenly remembered that there was a large wisteria outside the door of my house more than ten years ago, it climbed very high next to a withered locust tree, but the flowers were always sparse, and a bunch of spikes in the east and west hung on the treetops, as if it was looking at the face and trying something. Later, even the sparse bunche of flowers was gone.

The other wisteria trellises in the garden were also removed and replaced with fruit trees. At that time, it was said that flowers have something to do with the corruption of life. I regretted that I would not be able to see any more vines here.

After so many years, the vine blossomed again, and it bloomed so vigorously, so densely, that the purple waterfall covered the thick coiled dragon-like branches, and it continued to flow, flow, and flow to the bottom of people's hearts.

Flowers and people will encounter all kinds of misfortunes, but the long river of life is endless. I stroked the little purple pod, full of wine of life, full of sails, sailing on this river of glittering flowers. It is one of the ten thousand flowers, and it is each one that makes up the flowing waterfall of ten thousand flowers.

In this light purple glow and light purple fragrance, I couldn't help but quicken my pace.

May 6, 1982.