Qinzhou to the North Sea from the road, down a shower too. Yu Guo, I have come to realize the scenery moving car window was dripping, and the distance of the village of stray fields and trees, floating from Qin spleen cool and lush. At that time, I was wondering a secret event, so missed the beach to enjoy the summer showers. I have not been to the North Sea, actually a haunted my mind a distant memory of the North Sea, it is felt in the warm and fuzzy kind of ambiguous on, let me vagrancy. In Beijing over the North Sea Pan-boat (which in fact is not enough to "sea" of the qualifications), have traveled too long by Hainan to the North east coast, but none is a dish I remember living in this feeling, is not cordial, is not far away. That distant memory, as if an ancient seeds, I have not remember what time, what had sown. At a time when the initial to the Guangxi Beihai, how it makes me feel a strange excitement, as the old haunt revisited?
The North Sea near Hainan. I think it should be called the South China Sea, Hainan, you should say rambling. "North Sea" before the cage for me on a layer of mystery.
Up until the time I have a foot into the North Sea beach, far-sighted, thinking mind, and remains the memory of that sea. Then, was the strong sea wind wake. Without leaving intermittent winds from the billowing waves on the scraping over, whistling a seemingly trying to push the resistance I have studied in the beach. Wind from the vast sea. Keep on stirring the north by the sea breeze Gulf coast. The sky is overcast, but no cloud. Vast expanse of waters, gathered subtle dull roaring, as if the momentum built up enough to limp, like, we can not truly hear, but it can be shaken to breath smoke-tao's feelings. Pentium emission waves in the deep blue sea, to the shape of mountains rolling in the snow-white spray Xie Qi and fast changing, turbulent manner from far and near, rushed beaches, thrown off a faded color Cho, the gradually calm disappear. Beach to withstand waves of intense erosion, and clean, leaving a damp places.
Release wild sea, so that the activities in this scenario where people relaxed and presumptuous. The men and women wearing swimsuits, shed the arrogance of your daily Jin-holding, enjoying the sea and wind body hidden bathing naked Huan. Hidden in the undulating waves, and disappeared when the people are drifting, like a bunch of fluctuations in floating weeds, but also like a flock of birds has not yet learned mallard swimming from time to time, however, is a cheerful splashes several more frightened screams. Stepping on shallow water coming and going of people, idle and messy. Focus to some people, then people seem to face came from an elegant gait, the slightly salty smell of the Brisk Xiang Yan. Turbulent body, and by the sea due to the shock and Anfen frame of mind.
I have step by step in China's best beach. Like the photogenic powder pink, silver, like the pale, such as sprinkling a layer of pale moonlight. Almost could not bear riding a beach clean smooth wrinkles. Two girls sitting on the sand to a beautiful seductive gesture, grasping lifting a pick one of the sand, from the fingers between the leak down, fell rounded on the exposed thighs and Jian Bi, such that they would like to stay buried slim The jade of the body. Take pity on the concept in his mind flashing a bit. The two boys standing in a sunken pit and focuses on digging deeper into the manhole. They will rise sand, Wai heap wells around base out of the trenches as the Lineup. Squatting on the outside of the middle-aged women and the old woman, apparently the child's mother and grandmother, energetically to help build the Great Wall built like a sand dune.
Connected with the sea at the beach, the tide continued to diffuse up. Also kept landing retreat. I am standing with, Ningmou distant sea. Suddenly, my mind out of a line of poetry: I mentioned in a deep seated feeling of anxiety and loneliness of the beach.
That the memory of the ancient grain seeds, mortal can not find the origin of long-seek. Heine's poetry. I thought of the sea in northern Germany, he wrote, "the North Sea collection." Germany's North Shore in 1825, an unknown poet, sitting in its sandy beaches, with the slim reed pipe in the sand that read: "Ageniesi, I love you." However, the waves came flooding into his sweet and sad confession had obliterated. My 13 year-old boy, listening to the whistling wind and snow outside the hut, in a glass oil lamp very first time reading poetry, reading poetry for the first time in the sea - when I have not seen a time when the sea has been Heine The poem moved to ocean in the heart of a sea of fantasy.
That winter the snow-covered huts had already gone. I hear birds entered the city, took to write on the wall is home Sunlight naive poems and fairy tales. But my heart still sported snow walls outside the stirring sound. Time to bury all of yesterday's day and night, they may exist in the future. My desire is still always that I have been given a foreign affair, like the ancients good: we will disappear, but are spiritual treasures up in worldly things will be safe. However, in the lonely journey, the future of all things really will be okay? The sand can be opened over the past come out of flowers, but flowers will wither.
At this point, the North Sea in my dreamy eyes, and then see the sea Heine, perhaps the same landscape. Distance Haitao was encouraged with strong winds, surging waves on the Feng Xiao have laughter, there are whispers, with a sigh, there are sobbing. During this period there is a lullaby like a faint voice, as if the long-vanished ancient legend.
A sea, a sandy beach.
Across a distant time and space, Heine Kongmang face chant of the sea real turmoil in my mind had. In fact, the turbulence is not the waves, are those experiencing washed away by time of the sad love poems. They are our lives to filter out the sand bar.
When the tide to go back a while, on the beach to countless fine hole. I suspect that the water leakage was detected. Careful observation, found that hole next to the creeping innumerable small crabs, such as small spiders, delicate was pitiful. They are extremely sensitive, a little bit of moving, he will be quick to slip away into the horror hole, people can not easily grasp. Everywhere a small crab, so I can not rush the pace step. Turned and looked at a coast, a haven for huge, the parking of thousands of small fishing boats, about waiting for repair or sea. Some shelf on the beach, full of residual injury bruise marks the scene, they probably will never go to sea - and they had been brave the storms of the.
Postscript: the North Sea came back, I re-read the poetry of Heine's North Sea. After many years, a memory of sand, was the opportunity of the chance, would like gulian as out exotic flowers. The sea is to carefully read, and no wonder every time I look at the sea, they feel mist shrouded beach, lingering shadow of the muse.
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