Wentu/Ying Zhigang

Some people say that in winter, Gusu is no longer Jiangnan.

Without peaches and willows, apricot blossoms and misty rain, those poems that tickle people's hearts, in the wet and cold weather of Xiao Sha,"just wait for this moment to be remembered."

But friends, if you have been to the Lotus Pond Moonlight Wetland Park in winter, you will know that although Jiangnan is old and the seasons change color, there is still a trace of Zen in Suzhou.

The ten-mile lotus pond is no longer beautiful.

At this time, the lotus lotus does not have the poetry of small lotus showing sharp corners, nor does it have the stunning color of the lotus reflecting the sun. Some of them have a few strokes of light ink that are simply outlined after reading all the glitz of the world, and some Zen in the lonely dust.

The pond is full of lotus leaves, with leaves like umbrellas or hats, or stubborn in the cold wind, or crawling on the muddy water surface, blending into the color of the soil. Only those stems with clear bones bear dry lotus seeds, like crossbows and halberds, fighting against the baptism of time.

Fade away the charm of spring and hide the beauty of summer. The pond is filled with residual lotus flowers, like a group of old women telling the story of time in the depths of the passing years.

These protagonists, who once made people feel beautiful throbbing and reverie, hide their noble souls in the lonely time in winter and guard the coldness and depression that no one cheers.

In the lonely lotus pond, egrets have lost their protection from lotus leaves and are like clowns, staggering comically in the mud. Perhaps it is too quiet, and the sound of lonely footsteps can startle a flock of flying herons.

I also once thought that disability and loneliness were an unspeakable pain.

What makes people remember the remnant lotus is a poem written by the poet Li Shangyin of the late Tang Dynasty:

The bamboo dock is dust-free and the water is clear, and the lovesickness separates the heavy city.

The autumn shade does not disperse and the frost flies late, leaving withered lotus trees to listen to the sound of the rain.

On a lonely night, the autumn wind and autumn rain are sad, the bamboo is quiet, and the autumn water is lonely. When the lovesickness is strong, there is only the rustling sound of raindrops beating on the residual lotus.

The person I want to see is invisible. This heart-wrenching loneliness is accompanied by only the withered lotus that has lost the color of life. If I were a poet, I would definitely cry before I would give up.

However, this remnant lotus is not the turn of secular people to pity.

You see, although it is only incomplete and lonely, it is still at the moment when it falls, leaving the world with a shocking scenery.

You need to hold your breath and be patient to see those arrogant souls who are unwilling to give up easily.

The moonlight in this huge lotus pond is a picture scroll at your fingertips. Using the lake water as cloth, it is stained with the blue of the sky, the gray of the clouds, and the withered yellow of the lotus. It is like traditional Chinese painting and sketching, and it has the texture of an oil painting under the bath of golden sunshine.

"Who solves the withered canopy is better than the gorgeous flower?" This is the wise man's tribute to the withered lotus.

Look at the fallen stems and the lotus seeds that refuse to flow with the mud. They are like sonorous notes, writing the reincarnation of a lotus flower in spring, summer, autumn and winter. In this quiet winter morning, a symphony about life is opened.

Life can experience the ravages of wind, frost, rain and snow, but the soul cannot be covered with any wind and dust. This lotus uses wind and frost as a knife to carve itself into symbols of thinking, enlightening another kind of beauty and nobleness of life.

In winter in Suzhou, the sun is still bright. Three or five friends sat around under the big tree and set the table. They poured a few green teas, chatted a few words, and a dead leaf fell off the cups. Everyone laughed and sighed,"It's so comfortable."

As the moon sets, the dark cries and the frost fills the sky, there are still people who set up fishing rods, watch the river maple fishing fire, and fish alone in the river cold moon.

The poetry of Jiangnan is everywhere. It has nothing to do with years or seasons. In the eyes of people with orchid hearts, a remnant lotus is enough to accompany wine.