“蒹葭苍苍,白露为霜。所谓伊人,在水一方。”读到这一句时,阳光不偏不倚地落下来,在睫毛上绽开一朵细碎的花,身前的木地板上有浓重的阴影覆过,静静地流淌成一条蜿蜒的河。眼前倏尔一片璀璨的金色,融在眼眶里如同万丈光华。静默的空间里蓦地展开一幅绝世好画:在水的一边,有身着素衣的女子,浅笑灼灼,身后一片蓝的阔的天;在水的另一边,有位满目痴情的男子,长身涉水而来,身后一片远的近的山水。诧然惊醒。若说“诗三百”中,我最喜的莫过于这一句 “蒹 葭 gray, white dew frost called the Iraqis, in the water side.” Read this sentence, the sun fell down impartially, on the eyelashes blooming a fine flower, in front of the thick wood floor The shadow over, quietly flowing into a meandering river. In front of Seoul, a bright gold, melting in the eyes as Brilliant Guanghua. On the water’s side, there was a woman in plain clothes, with a smile on her face, and a blue sky behind her. On the other side of the water, there was a man of infatuation, Wading from long, far behind a landscape. Awakened awakened. If you say “poetry three hundred ”, my favorite than this one