狼烟起,黄沙乱,大漠残阳暗:坟茔殁,风雨晚,人寂寥渺散。——题记阳关,兴许是文人史官笔下频繁迭出的意象,无论是落寞萧飒的流浪诗人,还是鲜衣怒马的少年将军,他们的足迹都曾光顾过这片热土,徒留后人嗟叹怀想。或许余秋雨先生说得对,彼时的阳关不再萦绕胡笳羌笛,马蹄笃笃,它们都已然随风而逝,正如踽踽远去的故人,那一盏践行酒,也只有在萧索梦境中追回。年岁的脚步匆 Smoke from the smoke, yellow sand chaos, the desert residual dark: tomb 殁, rainy night, people are lonely. - Inscription Yang Guan, perhaps the literati historian frequently repeated images, both lonely Xiao Sa’s wandering poets, or fresh and angry young generals, their footprints have patronized this land, leaving only descendants sigh Huai think. Perhaps Mr. Yu Qiuyu right, then the Yang Guan no longer linger Hu Qiang flute, horseshoe tuk tuk, they are already gone with the wind, just as the emperor away, that a practicing wine, and only in the sleepy dream In recovery. The footsteps of the elderly rush