Perhaps, I have designed Jiangnan was removed, it should be like this strike!
Wrong is wrong tidy rows of old canals meandering harrying the housing is narrow gray road sections of bluestone is the front of the house was short, silk Low Low Guapeng, is blossoming under the mottled yellow door out of the post - weathered the elderly, and it is deep inside Rain Lane insisted on the same girl ... You Zhisan clove ...
So I like reverie in the early morning mist Yinyun, abruptly broke into Zhouzhuang in, eager to snuggle with her, into her serene and quiet.
Always thought he was relaxed Chuan Ke Jiang Sheng Dengying years, haunted by the residual Pear rain incense, lovestruck, and the strings on the flow of "Happy Spring Evening" ... ...
However, I was sober, and I Qinhuai night Feidu ten-mile, in the month when the fans ferry crossing, gently ??? a canal of water, dip the millennium and under the Aura, but I washed all the way rushing to eolian. The moment the quiet dawn, the smoke curl Banzhuo lazy air, beckons a new day; sound of wooden club, such as Xiaojiabiyu the Lianbu, knocking a slippery brick, which fell in the old imperial calendar echoed long long.
I was stopped in her tracks with rapt attention to: a closed door in front of two pillars have been stormy, supporting the side of the gloomy sky covered with cobwebs, if pushed into the door, can not go there enjoy the mysterious似水fleeting? Is a deep courtyard, or the homes of ordinary people? In this way the ancient reclining on the door that the door strike, quietly looking forward to the advent of the night: or busy knocking pieces, see Deng Hua scatter; or shear candle Xi Chuang, Ren Xin Jing floating; or rain poured a cup of tea and listen to the rain Musa is not the voice ... ... for each misty dusk, there will be a bit old to do the old man leaning against doors, through a profound eyes, memories of the past than the brick still distant?
The door is not far south of the bridge, a small arched bridge, as much of the beauty of its winding, call Suzaku bridge bar, a setting sun shines into the afterglow, there is a good dance Chuixiao woman dress , standing silent bridge, completely without Qinhuaibayan of swagger, but with the gaze of Les Yeux looking forward to good lover's return.
The 10 steps away in that households on the front of the house shine with silk Guapeng mature color, Mimizaza of a moss-covered stone steps to settle with. Perhaps the ancient love story hidden in the stone steps at the end, pretending to be mysterious so jealous of us busy with fame and fortune in there, and pay tribute at the Sri Lanka Bar! Home under the eaves of the housewife sitting leisurely picking vegetables, Wu mildly pleasant greeting with running child. Look at the rise of the wooden Ko closed window, vaguely heard of the rattan chair, "Zhiyazhiya" sound, Kuanggu and clear, it is time after the weathered old woman in the open bar, otherwise, how could such a placid, and the enjoyment of the marked the beginning are still fresh in the eternal life?
Fold turn over, he discovers that Sapporo flag was hoisted, the pride Dunsheng walking arena, I walked walks on the river on board of this small building, like tower, it seems song pavilion, but it is the moon place. Engrave words wooden doors, mahogany floors, as well as vermilion Mulan:听风lean on a railing, a few had to do a thousand sails; the opposite direction to a crisp, inviting breeze moon. Tamate slender, casually elegant delivery to soak into the depths of the Biluo spring, we shut our eyes, know how is called the state of mind. Jiangnan people, a kind we can not help but envy the lazy, air overflowing the quiet and detached, people look a little harder to bear to omit the long-lost Willful?
Sit time Wupeng Chuan, palm one back to the rudder, shake a few into line and, on your boat, guided by their fluttering shaking in the shallow river Qingqing gentle ups and downs, through the old one has a small bridge, looked on so many Chuanke whirling dance of the spring, the fishing village of terraced rice paddies in the Kuang Yuan Ituri lifeless sleep.
Clouds dispersed, according to the number of people to their dreams, which in March of the south ah, Shuiguang prettily and Yan, mountains empty Mongolia, is indeed a finished grooming the scenery woman! Or heavy makeup, or Dan Ma, or low-Organization, or Shu-mei, the number of literati achievements of the welter of literary talent, and through the ages farewell, but also was the number of costumes, exquisite young bride and dreams of the conversion!
Is not for me, through the flashing neon city, carrying breeze lost, face it out of print Zhouzhuang? Is not for me, waiting for this charming southern Chunxiao, a chapter on the poetry, the find that the Maple Bridge at Night?
Sun has not yet Yuandun, breeze already struck, I think tonight Jiuxing Department, sultry moonlight will be accompanying me silent chant:
"Eventide Zhouzhuang Water Station empty, thousands of miles away from home is difficult with despair;
After years of the Old Testament Jiangnan dream, lying to listen to Wu Feng midnight bell. "
Author: zztour
