Allusions in Zhu Qunying's "Looking at the Moon"

When the new moon turns again, it appears. The crescent moon lies on the distant eastern horizon, unable to open the moth eyebrow lazily. When the autumn wind blows, the face of the new moon turns white and our eyes light up. Unconsciously, we came to autumn. We didn't make an appointment with Yueyue in advance. At this time, we invited the bright moon to talk, the platform was near the water, and the drum tower was windy. Our thoughts are stained with moonlight, scattered everywhere and mottled. So we began to imagine that we couldn't remember many details, because there were too many hoofprint in the place we passed, but we could imagine the plot related to the moon ... the head we looked up at was fixed in this autumn. This autumn, the mountains are thin, the water is thin, the wind is thin and the rain is thin. So we launched a light of philosophical thinking into the night sky, and we recovered the moon marks of Tao and dreams. In fact, the moon mark is also a natural wonder in celestial bodies. Our ancestors were very afraid because they had too many myths and dreams. Myths and dreams are just the most spiritual wings of human childhood. Wings fanned to the ancient times, and the moonlight gave birth to the wind; The wings are fanned to the future, and the moon is dizzy and rainy. Now, we are waiting for the reappearance of the eclipse. We cast a deeper and longer shadow on the universe, but we can't stop the sun and the moon. We can only put the halo of the sun and the moon on our heads for generations, go to the stage to worship our ancestors and go to the stage for divination, and we will never be able to discharge the tide in our hearts. The other cicada has thinner flowers and thinner leaves. The shadow of the moon is floating shallowly, and we retreat into the reed house and look at the window. In the long river of time, we will always be a group of children who don't grow up and live with the sun and the moon. Time is our wings, flapping the coast predicted by the four seasons. So we carve myths and legends from word of mouth on the cliff, and the sword refers to the Spring and Autumn Period. A brief history, ask heaven and earth again, and reunite with the dream of flying. When a woman asks for heaven, the moon is like a bud, and when she asks for heaven, the moon is like a bow. When Cang Xie looked for him, the moon looked like an ape. When the king of Qin asked for heaven, the moon was like a ridge. It's too white to ask for heaven, and the moon is like a boat. When Dongpo asked for heaven, the moon seemed to be a bottle. The bright moon is like a sickle, when you ask for it from the sky in the clear light; When A Bing prayed to the sky, the moon was like a string. One crescent moon is thin, and the other crescent moon is thin: we sit on the edge of two springs reflecting the moon and write lyrics for half of the country, flat and flat, flat and flat ... we come from ancient times, from spring to autumn. Autumn chrysanthemum is floating in the dark fragrance under the moon, and we are full of tears, holding the moon plate into the Mid-Autumn Festival: the bright moon is in the sky, and the autumn soul is bright: Chongyang, Chongyang, Chongyang in September. Our hands suddenly drooped. Our hands holding moon cakes suddenly drooped. The thin moon was shocked by the sound of heaven. Thin moon, thin moon, we are pregnant with the soul of the moon, half in our hearts and half in our hands. We only ate half of it, leaving the other half for people across the strait to eat. We would rather eat its meat than its bones. Also, our thoughts can't be thin, the good ones can't be thin, the scenery can't be thin, and the music can't be thin ... ask the sky, the sky is silent, and the thin moon is silent. The autumn wind suddenly rises and the flute swallows. Our words are pale in the white dew, holding the thin moon, so step by step to the depths of autumn, with heavy memories. The full moon is lost, and the autumn wind is strong. We have to return to the folk, build fences and write folk songs. Zhuzhici sings softly in the moonlight, and crickets jump on both sides in late autumn. We looked up at the sky and got drunk with chrysanthemums. Chrysanthemum words fall with the autumn wind, and every sentence is as sad as missing a woman's moon. Qiu Chan became silent, and the winter wind came. We stood on the branches of winter, with long hair and shawls, singing to the moon and falling into the plum path with the wind. Plum wind is everywhere, snow is everywhere, mountains and rivers are wrapped in elements, and bones are fragrant. We dipped in it, so we began to draw: plum bone, moon soul. The new moon turns again, the new moon appears, and we unconsciously arrive in spring. Imagined spring. The crescent moon woke up from a long dream. The Chunjiang River thawed for the second time, and we are going to make an appointment with Crescent Moon for the next round.