“月朦胧,鸟朦胧,帘卷海棠红。”喜欢在安静的屋子里,独我,一茗香茶,翻开手中书卷,慢慢抚平心灵。灯下吟诵一篇朦胧,心中便有了无限的陶醉,如梦似幻。字里行间的点点滴滴便显出一幅幅画卷来,在凝固的空气中慢慢地铺开。依稀里,先人吟唱着古老的歌谣在田间河边勤劳地耕种,歌声从《诗经》里一路飘来;迷离下,孩童跳着活泼的步子在风动柳舞里快乐地追逐,欢乐从《绝句》中一路扑来:恍惚间,男儿扛着长戟守在边关圆月 “Moon dim, birds hazy, curtain begonia red. ” Like in a quiet room, alone, a tea, open the book in hand, slowly soothe the soul. Chanting a dim light, the heart will have unlimited intoxicated, dreamlike. Between the lines of the dribs and drabs will show a picture scroll, slowly spread in the solidified air. Vaguely, the ancestors chanted ancient songs in the field hard-working cultivation, song from the “Book of Songs” all the way in the floating; Blurred, children jumping lively pace in the moving Liu dance happily chasing, joy from the “ Quatrains ”all the way to flutter: Trance, carrying a halberd man holding the border in the moon