Selected works of American literature 1:

Wutongshuxia

In October, I came to the Huangpu River with Banyan Tree's attachment to Lingnan, and let the past stretch in the alleys of Shanghai guarded by buttonwood trees, and shed in the pavilions of history.

I remember, five years ago, on an autumn evening, I was alone by the silent Huangpu River, listening to the story blowing in the evening breeze, and my eyes were full of ups and downs in the ancient city of Shanghai, as well as the sun and moon circulating on the river. At that time, Shanghai aroused a young man's struggle feelings, full of cultural feelings.

In a blink of an eye, I used to look the same, but when I deal with the same river, I always feel inexplicable sadness and faint sadness.

You see, the Yangpu Bridge across the two banks is hidden in the scars of history. Crossing and precipitation are in the children's immature and curious eyes, and there are also polite fields with overlapping skin colors.

Where is the origin of mankind? Where is the symbol of politeness? Where is the power of life? Where is the decline of history? Where is the gate of wisdom? Where is the future of the world? ……

The grandeur of the World Expo is gathered on a quiet tree and detoured on a quiet street.

When the ancient clock comes to an abrupt end, who can say that an era will disappear forever? Who can say that another era is booming?

The origin of a region is always associated with emotional kites. All progress of politeness is always inseparable from the origin of human nature. In the course of history, a voice from the earth belongs to the winding river of human nature.

Listen, the rain falling under the eaves of the former residence of celebrities, a never-fading spring, quietly blooms in the eternal spiritual space. No fence, no fence, no fence, no vines. Outside the doors and windows, there is sunshine, shade, lawn and pigeon nest. Above the eaves are camphor trees, phoenix trees, blue sky and white clouds. Under the courtyard wall, it is the countryside, it is spring, it is grassroots, it is thick.

This is a season that we deeply miss. (sentences about youth)

It is such a season, let us choose our own four seasons in Yuan Ye.

This is a season to let us know what real life and real happiness are.

The real life is to try our best to maintain the survival of ourselves and our families, and get along as harmoniously as possible with our brothers and sisters, colleagues and neighbors on this basis, and enrich ourselves and beautify our living environment with our generosity, purity, justice, kindness, fraternity, ability, openness, strength and beauty, so as to realize an ideal country.

When nature and spirit get green and environmental protection, when the group feels real pleasure, we as individuals can experience the most real pleasure.

Maybe, on the flat land, we only wait once. Then, let's stand as a tree, such as this tall and straight phoenix tree, and listen attentively to the roar of the earth in every spring, the song of the grassland in every summer, the clang in front of the mountain in every autumn, and the call of the snowfield in every winter. When the leaves on the local ground are colorful, the footprints of predecessors and descendants will blend into the golden color of nature, and all wrinkles will disappear on the wide river bank.

It's autumn, and I'm wandering under the buttonwood in Shanghai. I wonder if there are rows of buttonwood trees waiting for me on the horizon of life cycle in autumn several years later.

I think it must be, for example, my deep affection for phoenix tree and its guardian in Jiangnan every year. ...

Selected Works of American Literature II:

Wutongshuxia

Tung flowers have fallen, and summer has come. (Hemingway)

Cars are coming and going in the street, but there are few pedestrians.

During the training lunch break, there was nowhere to go, just sitting under the buttonwood, and one, two, three ... counted the flowers that fell all over the floor.

"Wait a minute", my meditation on time and space was pulled by a sparrow that suddenly flew in.

The distance between me and this sparrow is only 2. About 8 meters, this distance should be very accurate. The brick paved on the sidewalk at the foot is 20 cm long, which is exactly two punches long when measured with a fist, and one punch is 10 cm. There is a distance of 13 brick between me and the sparrow, and the sparrow is right in front of me at an angle of 25 degrees to the south. It landed on the white guardrail with a tung flower.

This sparrow still looks very thin with a slightly yellow beak. Maybe it's a sparrow that just left her parents and flew alone. Ignorant life is in contact with the new world for the first time, and there is no fear of human beings, perhaps only awe of objects many times larger than their own lives. (article reading network: three smells)

It jumps closer to me, and I can observe it more and more clearly.

It has neat brown feathers, a pair of bright and clear round eyes on its small head, and keeps looking warily. I didn't move, even holding my breath.

It pecked the fallen tung flowers here, and jumped there to peck the tung flowers there. Pecked and put down, put down and pecked, like a baby playing with a toy in his hand.

It pecked open the skin of a newly fallen tung flower and put its mouth into the flower to suck something greedily. I'm curious, but I can't bear to disturb it.

I slowly drew the nearest tung flower with my fingers, quietly tore open the petals, and there were only four stamens of different lengths and a little pollen inside. Suddenly, my mind appeared naughty when I was a child. I took a deep breath of the lingering fragrance of tung flowers and secretly licked the stamen pollen, which made me chuckle. (mentality adjustment)

"Wait a minute" is obviously my abrupt move that finally scared the sparrow. After hesitating for a second or two, it flew to the top of the tree, singing and screaming at me.

Under the buttonwood tree, I was left with a stubborn smirk.

Selected works of American literature 3:

Wutongshuxia

Sycamore trees are very common in the north, and are planted on both sides of urban roads in many places as greening. This kind of tree is not beautiful, but it is very durable. I have watched the TV series Wu Tongyu before, and I saw the tall and lush Wu Tongshu. Many movies have scenes under buttonwood trees. The intermittent rain drops from the leaves of the wide plane, which feels very charming and emotional.

After coming to the north, I can say that I met Indus every day. In the city on campus, you can see his massiness and steadiness. He is a deciduous tree. When I stepped on the road covered with buttonwood trees in autumn, I inadvertently remembered that I had never seen him before, and I had a good impression on him inexplicably, like a lover who was destined for nothing. The leaves of buttonwood are rough and flat. Larger leaves can cover your face, and you can make a face by making two holes in it and missing an eye. The wind blows, and then slowly falls, so long, so unsatisfied. Let you feel the sadness of autumn.

The most beautiful time of phoenix tree is autumn, and the regret in autumn is that there is little rain, but if it rains, it is really a good time to interpret the charm. On my first night in the north, I was caught in a continuous light rain, complaining that God was arresting people. Take a taxi alone and go straight to the hotel. When I go to a new place, I like to walk around and see the social characteristics there. A stranger came out of the hotel, it was raining lightly at night, and he was afraid to go far. I walked slowly along the shade. I happened to find me walking under the buttonwood tree. I can still feel and remember the excitement at that moment.

Sycamore tree is the place where we live and understand. More accurate and vivid than what you said on campus. At ordinary times, students will set up stalls, books, mobile phone cards and life gadgets there. On weekends, Carla is often dragged to K below him, and all the people who are so busy at once gather together and form a circle outside. We are beside the phoenix tree, and the phoenix tree is in our hearts.

Indus is not beautiful, but it is really beautiful!

Selected works of American literature 4:

Under the buttonwood, are you still there?

If you can use those three-inch golden tongues to penetrate the distant world and hang them on the threshold of years, can you still remember the warmth in my words?

Under the buttonwood, are you still there? A low call, a faint breath from the bottom of my heart, when thousands of tender feelings can't keep the faded years, I still stand at the intersection where the wind blows, gently holding a pen to write down the proverbs of acacia for you, calling you affectionately among quiet and graceful poems, sketching a pair of colorful scrolls and recording your chapter.

Wutong swaying, revisiting the old place, the old scene and the old things have not been answered, humming countless cold memories. On a cool night, the moonlight pulls up the curtains that wake up at midnight, turning fragrant memories into melancholy. How many nights, the wind stood in the middle of the night to send away your thoughts, tapping the keyboard again and again, and writing down your feelings with tears. Waiting for you in my thoughts day after day, shouting deep despair at your wandering back.

For the next chapter I wrote for you, can you still read me in the article as you did when you swam yesterday? Can that tearful figure arouse your compassion for Iraq from Autumn Flowers? Do you know who is pining for your daily longing for love? The promise engraved on the Sansheng Stone, who wrote that life and death depend on each other, and this life will be for you for thousands of years?

Three thousand hair is reserved for you, and all tenderness is stored for you. Through my black hair, can you still remember the smell of my hair tips? Can looking at your affectionate eyes still touch your heartstrings? Can my laughter, joy and anger still make you lose your mind? Where did you leave the emerald green that embodies eternal love? Holding your hand and the promise of growing old with your son can still make you willing to accompany me forever?

Whispering one after another, such as bitter tears, moistened the skirt of that dream, which once carried your heavy thoughts about me. Can you remind you to taste the long-lost warmth again now? If your horseshoe is still willing to stay in my heart, if you are still willing to be drunk in my words for thousands of years, then let your vows buried deep under the buttonwood become tough chains and lock the fleeting time for me.

When the left hand is used to the temperature of the right hand, are you still willing to take me to continue writing eternal love? When the world of mortals drowned, would you still like to drink only one spoonful of my drink? When those love words turn into tears and condense into amber, are you still willing to hold them in your hands and care for them? When acacia is turned into a seed and planted on the other side, will you still water it painstakingly and wait for the flowers to bloom? If your love vows remain unchanged, please continue to cut the years by the Sansheng stone with me and wait for love with your life.

Under the buttonwood tree, standing in the memory, I lost my way, shed tears and sounded sad! Waiting hopelessly in the promise, every word is sad! Carve your name on the lintel of acacia and call softly, are you still under the buttonwood? !