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The Melodies of the Wind |
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Listening to the wind in the quiet night seems to be something that people
have long abandoned. In the noisy city, taking the time to listen to the
wind's whispers is not only an elevation of the spirit but also a return of
the soul.
The wind varies with the seasons. The spring breeze is gentle and delicate,
like a loving mother. The summer wind is mighty and powerful, like surging
waves. The autumn wind is desolate and melancholic, like falling leaves. The
winter wind is icy and biting, like frozen blades. However, I believe that
the experience of listening to the wind differs for individuals facing
different circumstances.
Successful people may hear the prideful words, "I fear no floating clouds
obstructing my view, for I dwell in the highest realm." Those talented yet
unrecognized might hear the lament, "The east wind does not favor Zhou Lang,
and the bronze sparrows keep Lady Qiao imprisoned in spring's deep embrace."
Contented souls may hear the leisurely verse, "Plucking chrysanthemums by
the eastern fence, I enjoy the serene view of the southern mountain."
Melancholic hearts may hear the helplessness expressed by, "Autumn winds
arise, white clouds fly, grass and trees wither, and geese head south."
Many people spend their entire lives busily, and it is because of this that
many people's lives pass by in a flurry. Are we truly enjoying life, or is
life controlling us? Perhaps it is worth stopping your footsteps and gently
feeling the wind's melodic voice. Is it a tranquil and pleasing melody or a
grand and ambitious one?
The wind is a messenger of love. Perhaps only the wind can convey the most
sincere love in this world. The wind allows us to feel the same warmth,
meticulously delivering the love of others to our side. The love woven from
countless words echoes constantly in our ears.
The wind is the compass for all things. Who knows when flowers bloom and
wither? Only the wind knows. The wind blows away the withered leaves, and
the yellowed leaves know it is time to "turn into spring mud and protect the
flowers." Similarly, the wind sometimes lightly brushes our faces, soothing
our wounded souls, while other times it fiercely slaps our faces, forcing us
to reassess our actions.
The wind is a trainer in the natural world. Tall trees, perhaps, are the
handiwork of the wind. When a gusty storm arrives, the grass and trees must
bow and lower their heads, but they are stubborn and refuse to yield. The
more the wind presses them down, the more resolutely they stand on that
patch of land. Life is also like the wind, ceaselessly training us. It is
through this training that we have resilient and lonely voyagers like
Robinson Crusoe, "Those who do not fear death have existed throughout
history, leaving behind their unwavering beliefs that illuminate the
annals," like Wen Tianxiang, and revolutionary martyrs who proclaim, "The
Red Army fears no arduous journey, as it only regards thousands of rivers
and mountains as mere trifles."
Listen to the wind's chant, and you may harvest a sense of tranquility, like
"the bright moon shining through the pines and the clear spring flowing over
the stones." Perhaps you will encounter the melancholy of "the scissors
cannot sever, the reasoning remains chaotic, it is the pain of parting, a
unique taste lingering in the heart." Or maybe you will be filled with
nostalgia, like "looking up at the bright moon, lowering my head, I miss my
hometown." As you listen to the wind's melody, you savor the bittersweet
flavors of life. |
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Answer |
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In this passage, the author reflects on the lost art of listening to the
wind in the modern, bustling city. They describe how different seasons bring
different types of winds, each evoking various emotions for different
people. The author contemplates whether individuals truly enjoy life or if
life controls them, urging readers to pause and listen to the wind's
whispers. They explore the wind's role as a messenger of love, a compass for
all things, and a trainer in the natural world. Through the wind's melodies,
one can experience tranquility, melancholy, or nostalgia, and gain a deeper
understanding of life's bittersweet flavors. The passage encourages the
reader to embrace the simple act of listening to the wind as a means of
reconnecting with oneself and the world around them. |
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