#1

lost every night. So one day, walking in t

in Buch-, Radio- und Fernsehtipps 14.01.2020 03:33
von ylq • 68 Beiträge

Summer night in the village is the stage for frogs. In the fragrance of rice flowers, the sound of frogs is always the most moving voice in the field. That year, he and his uncle mowed on the large meadow in the south of the village and slept in a temporary shack at night. Not far to the south is the embankment of the Songhua River, and to the north is a large meadow. After a tiring day, lying down in the shack, the ears are the frogs that are near and far. Listening carefully, it seems that you can distinguish the sound of each frog. With a little distraction, they form a chorus, shaking the entire grassland. There will be a moment when all the frogs will stop at the same time, as if an appointment has been made, and a deep tranquility will wake up from the dream. After a while, the frog sounds again, and then sleeps again. That short silence, like the pause between frogs changing songs Wholesale Cigarettes, like the blank space between two songs on a turntable, buffered an unspeakable emotion. Or in the night when there is a moon, I can hardly sleep, and then I climb up the river embankment to see the moonlight flowing, and the sound of frogs still surrounds me. On the shore, the sound of frogs jumping into the water often comes Parliament Cigarettes, such as the individual notes in the curtain, the ripples of the semicircle rippling, breathing the smell of autumn grass, and the body and the body are integrated with the frogs and moonlight. At that time, the geese were put on the grass. The partners in the village were holding long iron rods. After a while, many frogs were strung on them, then peeled and grilled on the fire. They were enjoying themselves. Almost. But I have never eaten it. It is not that I feel cruel, that it is not delicious, or that I should not eat it. At that age, these problems were not understood. I just thought that the frogs that were used to jumping among the grass ponds, and then seeing their scorched bodies, couldn't help appetite. And the behavior of some partners really made me feel cruel. Sometimes they were not to satisfy appetite, but to play, peeled the frog, but still alive, put it in the pond, See how long they swim before they die. At that time, I was worried that so many frogs died of death, and it would be dead at night! However, every night, the sound of frogs will come in through the window and accompany me a sweet dream. I was also relieved that frogs should be hunted in such a large meadow! When leaving home, the big meadow was still there Carton Of Cigarettes. Later, many years later, I came to a mountainous city surrounded by mountains, forests, rivers, and green grass. Living on the edge of the city, there is a rural atmosphere, and there is a faint kind of hometown. When I first came, I was hopeful, and after years of isolation, I can finally sing in my dreams again. But it didn't. In the summer, in the autumn, looking at the wild night, there will always be flashes of flashlight. I already knew that it was a frog trap. Although it is strictly prohibited to catch frogs, in this forest area, the frogs are produced. It is said that the taste is very delicious and the price is very expensive, so it can't help. So on those beautiful nights, they dare not tweet anymore, for fear of causing death. Yes, I just want to think that they dare not call them, but I dare not think that they are almost extinct. Maybe the forest frogs will not die because of hunting, but in the silent night, they are few in number. Recalling the large meadows of my hometown, the chorus of the millions of frogs that filled the ears can only appear in dreams. Outside the dreams, there is boundless indifference and loneliness. That year, when I returned to my hometown, the large meadows had long since disappeared, replaced by boundless paddy fields and pesticides overflowed. In the summer night, the fragrance of rice was everywhere, but the sound of frogs was scattered, not a tune. I know that my hometown will never go back. Could it be hard to reunite in this life in the night with the sound of frogs? The reunion is just the noise of the past and the coldness of today. Those frogs of childhood sang forever in the years, singing through the river of time and falling into my dreams that I lost every night. So one day, walking in the wild, and seeing a frog jumping out of the grass, I followed it all afternoon. Seeing it lonely and lonely, listening to its low humming, even made me long-time dusty, full of tears.

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