The phoenix flower was burning. She looked back and saw the burning happiness behind the clouds that were thicker and more beautiful than the sunset. In the next shot, a tricycle stopped at her door. I know that they have entered the depths of the season of love...
The song of the old ladies in the pond: The
green leaves and white flowers are not beautiful . The
green leaves and white flowers are beautiful . A woman's fate is like raindrops , some fall in a stinky ditch , some fall in a rich man's pond Who knows how many rice paddies, how many rivers , how many bays, how many layers of white clouds, who can sweep the fallen leaves in the forest, who can command the wind not to blow the trees and shake a silkworm to eat How many mulberry leaves can be spun silk and how much rain it will take to weave a colorful garment... An's song (Master Tao called her to the temple at night to sing for him: "You don't need to understand") Does anyone know how many roots of rice are in the rice fields A river has several layers of clouds in the rainy season, who can sweep the leaves in the forest and who can command the wind... Master Dao: "Every morning, my ears fly out of the window to hear the birds sing, and my nose penetrates Smell the fragrance of my lotus flowers across the wall. Every day at sunrise and sunset, my eyes fly into the air, my heart, my heart fly to the sky, beyond the shackles of human nature
Master Dao's poem (read aloud):
I spread my wings and fly far and high
until exhaustion swallows
me To chase the lazy clouds in the sky
To ride the evening wind on the grasslands
I raise my sails and travel the four seas
In the dark night, I call myself brothers with the marlins and
peep at the waves The reflection of the crescent moon inside
my poetry rises with the tide
. The master said:
Get up, gentle sun, sprinkle the golden light on the
moon, weave your silver thread and
pull up the night that covers me.
My poetry rises with the tide
, gentle The sun, shed golden light
and moon, weave your silver threads Pull up the sky under the
shroud of night that covers me, I am in a dilemma, I would like to be a lotus in the pond, make the day radiate fragrance and poetry , find the soul of my past life in the wind and reflect me The existence of this life - this is my last poem, I wrote it before I lost my fingers - I borrowed my fingers to write it for you - don't have to trouble a person who is in the world - I don't think the trouble will come ... ... ——We will start writing poems from Master Poetry Dao tomorrow (An Transcription): Although the moonlight is so dim , it cannot mourn the pale pond I still find joy, find in pain I see the word rainbow in the fading moonlight The words are like notes struck The chords played vibrate a beam of light The melody echoes in my abandoned heart
Dao: Sometimes I have this kind of dream, dreaming that my fingers grew out, the swelling on my face disappeared, and that I took a dozen baskets of my most beautiful lotus flowers to the floating market when I was young, I rowed over to the women and threw all the lotus flowers in the water, and the petals covered the water to form a white river, until then I finally returned to my hometown, released and cleansed. When I woke up, it was dark night, it turned out to be just a dream, a dream that could never be realized.
Prostitute Lian: I remember wearing long clothes to school. There were rows of flowers and trees near the school. In hot weather and red flowers bloomed, girls would wear flowers on their heads. It takes a long time to wait for the flowers to fall. If we are lucky, there will be a boy who will send us flowers, and we will put them in a book to commemorate the boy who sent the flowers. ...Don't think I'm going to do it for the rest of my life, I have my plans...Have you ever been in the Grand Hotel? The world inside is completely different. The people inside are not like us. The sun shines on them, not us. We live in their shadow, and the shadow grows with every building we build. Next time you pay attention to the people entering and exiting the door of the hotel, how many are like you? In the future, I will stay in that world, and I am willing to marry anyone there and become one of them.
Hai: I'm afraid the result is not like that.
Lian: So what do you say? Marrying a tricycle driver?
Lian: Why do you like me? Have you forgotten that I have accompanied many men. Ahai, keep your eyes open and see what the woman in front of you is, I'm a prostitute, you're just a driver who takes me, that's all, nothing else, don't let me take more than my load.
An's Song (Master Dao's deathbed):
Who knows how many rice
and rivers there are in the fields, how many bays , how many
layers of white clouds in the sky,
who can sweep away the leaves in the forest,
who can command the wind not to blow
a tree How many mulberry leaves does a silkworm eat to spin silk and weave a colorful garment
How much rain does it take to make the ocean full of tears
How many years does it take for the moon to grow old
in the middle of the night, the moon is nearby waiting for
the one who stole my heart
I want forever sing a song of joy
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