Guge memories (Tibet 3)
Each visited Guge's friends all told me that Gug is lonely. Lonely in my case, have the equivalent of rain Yeti months of rhododendron, mountain sunset shadow on the snow, falling falling when the bell, so I close it when the heart is with the slightest of pity for.
Hundreds of miles around the mountains, the companies into a piece of road surrounded by plugging into plugging into pieces into the soil wall, Guaizhuang thousands. Monastery is surrounded by peaks of the Office of mud soil in the mountains, in the folding of light and shadows, but also reveals a mysterious and temptation, as if to remind me to go to a distant country, and not have to carry the memory of the former Sheung. Sutlej mud with muddy turbulent flows in the valley, the gentle and desolation, actually I have heard some faint sobbing sound. I know that inside there must be some story, it all the way, and led me to meet Guge.
I think I should be drowned in the Guge gaze were, and when it is in silence, quietly standing in front of me, and when it started to show me the scars it scattered body varies and when it is going to Heaven and Silent dead end hero when I was a deep sigh of Guge grazed the woman, in addition to sadness, or sorrow.
Mountains stacked Canqiang rubble as a reminder on the grid is still visible legacy of ancient cave palace, the Peak is also lingering dirt cliff straight into the sky the majestic momentum. No one can exactly tell me that it has been here many years; and no one can exactly tell me what it's him what happened, you can make it abruptly halted the fighting is no longer wake up. Dynasty Village dazzling variety of Buddhist paintings are now no longer everywhere Shenghui graphics, gongs yinhao Tiemao Ghingo now no longer earth-shattering. Every evening and every morning, listening to the wind in the wilderness, waiting for the sun are only Guge themselves. It is so stubborn and silent, ignoring the wind rain erosion slump waiting there.
For thousands of years ago, it is here, for thousands of years, it will still be here? It is waiting for? Waiting for a listen to stories of people? Listen to its bygone glory, a former love?
"We BenBen ball, sad sad Lele, his playing life, the pursuit of success. Our childhood thrown into, and the young cast, and in exchange for a thing called success; we parents thrown, and thrown himself, and to looking for a thing called love. We are tired, when begging for calm, quiet when it wept for yesterday. "
Dust one after another, the long river of time, my tears turn Where?
Standing on the opposite hill, watching the ancient grid, looking a touch of golden sun slowly throughout the mountain, I suddenly thought, this is the "memoir," ah, from beginning to end, all we have abandoned it, but it has never left我们.
2001 Tour
2001 Hutchison
Flying Travels http://column.qingyun.net/feiyan
By: where
