“长风起,空谷落秋雨。月清凄,夜色覆寒衣;君言白首不离,终散去。竹林萧萧兮,不忍忆……”晚风伴着浅黛色的落日悄然而至,穿过窗下静穆而立的古筝,拂过案头的笔架,最终掀起书桌上散落的手稿。在这样一个恍若姗姗来迟的傍晚,提笔缓缓书写着为《诗经·谷风》而作的词,聆听着古韵声声,只觉宁静、悠远、旷达——还有些许令人难以忘怀的熟悉感。忽而风卷笔落掉向琴弦,一声清脆的筝鸣 “Changfeng, empty valley fall autumn. Moon Qing Qimin, night cold coat; Jun words white not leave, eventually dispersed.” Bamboo forest Xiao Xi Xi, can not bear to remember ... “” Evening breeze accompanied by light Dai sunset quietly to , Crossed the Jingzhu standing under the window, brushed the desk carriage, and finally set off the scattered manuscript on the desk. In such a late reminiscence of the late afternoon, the pen slowly written for the “Book of Songs Valley wind” and made the words, listening to the ancient rhyme, just feel quiet, distant, unrestrained - and some difficult Forgotten familiarity. Suddenly wind coil dropped off to the strings, a clear kite Zhengming