Part One: Listen to the sound of snow snow, I was very busy, no time to carefully looked at those depths of winter vegetation in the bleak everywhere, buried handle the affairs of the end.All accounts, all transactions are done taking a. Snow, quietly underground.In between I inadvertently, have covered the earth.When I finally got up, bid farewell to the last guest, at first glance, the world is already snow, leaving only the territory Miles thirty-two black * gable, and some of the litter out of snow surface. Snow the next, occasionally dense, described as the snow, occasionally sparse, like a tired at stop.People this time, all the things a year, have gradually attributed to silence after a noisy, busy working all rushed to their respective destination. Snow, this silent.Fell on a bamboo forest, “imperfections” sound, fall winter paddy fields, it is the silence.Some long land package along with increasingly thick, bloated.A man walking in the snow, hats, oblique wear, face covered, who can not see that, see his face, could not see where he wants to go, his footsteps in the snow “creak “to ring, his figure disappeared an instant. Occasionally three or two barking, the world has become more quiet snow. I also got up and dressed, I set foot on the way home, unless the people around me.I sent a few people, that Chapman behind “squeak” sound, the wind whistling in the ears, on the road, I left a man, heaven and earth, and I was alone when. Snow, sparse when dense, when the emergency break time.My way back, in fact, travel rush.* White reed on the hillside, the leaves are dry snow to the ground, usually white banner * reed, once lush flowers, was swaying to Italy in the autumn, melancholy vast number of watch, now, in the snow, It is silent, or straight or obliquely, any snow cover, into pieces overturning. Listen snow, too Meiling, plum being open, bloom aroma hit, I dressed in sleeves, also with a subtle fragrance.Look Plum, only emerged in the snow a little yellow, to distinguish branches covered in fresh snow, becoming plum, at first glance, you need to find, you need to take a closer look, the snow just stand out in the snow, picking their way cautiously meaning, probably should be so. Snow walking, quite a pine stand.Not cold snow, snow flying like a miss, in this day Ruqierzhi.In fact, not snow, fell on the palm instantly into the water, but the next stop world full of snow, snow talk the language, and finally covers all things, all color * Ze, leaving only black and white, clear to appear in the horizon, in the heart, pure and caught the earth.This time, people drift out of the know, to go back, and to go back. Listen snow, calm silent.So many years, to look back at the occasional vicissitudes, reminiscent sigh, heart bleak.But occasionally the Mountain leaves, the autumn chill digestion, occasional snow charcoal, people may feel warm. Snow, people go, Cangshan snow wrapped, who has ignited lights? Part II: In the name of the wind, listening to the sound of snow early dawn wind, scoff at the twilight of the city.Xue Wu, a figure of annihilation once again, why only time always goes by in a hurry to be as? The wind blows away the Psalms, messy one place.Three years of writing, I use ink to write four seasons Mo Yan Mo language, written with thoughts wander the earth.They say, you float down the writing slumped, his own writing so vague, sad to write so clear, in fact, no one knows, has always been a character in his own destruction. Leaves rustling passed away; snow, late.And the value of a year end of the year, perhaps to write some text and give yourself far away in a paradise. Before long, just because you are a favorite, so wayward he wrote three years, after which it gradually becomes a habit. This time, I just want the name of the wind, quietly listening to you on behalf of that snow sound. Every day, walk the same road, doing the same thing, week and circulation, has not changed.So for those superficial, without much gratitude.Year after year are to be so, spring and winter, but also the future and tenderness that touch of pear rain, already Mei Xiang Mu snow season is the end of the year, Akimitsu water day and night, why am I still struggled to live.All thoughtfully alive every day, sometimes busy, sometimes stared and, after a few years to sigh life is a dream difficult to consider. I, in the name of the wind, blowing through Mo, passing seasons, only to find the missing figure. Early spring, perhaps yourself strolling down a small road in the field.Mo snow, just ablation, dark green malt also revealed the new attendants.Gentle wind, clear float through the hair, the mixing of the shallow grassy.Ignorant of the spring season, catkins flying, I sat quietly on the ridge, with a share of his own warm bunk, waiting for the TV drama romance spring field has nothing to do, just want to give yourself a promise expectations.Sauna net midsummer, should lie on the roof looking up at the night sky, at that time, the sky is very clean.Faint cicadas in the night, to subvert the hustle and bustle of day.Floating light flow of I, was finally fixed as the stars in the Weimang.Cowherd, has been in the interpretation, Nagqu never varies embroidery Tsing Yi.My shallow sleep, dream star turn one hundred fight, but always language Mo Mo Yan, who is raving whisper? Late autumn, petioles break moment people are distressed.Sink deadwood, and instantly collapsed downtown.Fold neck leaves, dried up the outline, full of haggard voice.Accompanied dandelion wander around the village inn guest, I put that parchment filled with thoughts.Hesitant pen, but also the future and the end of the paragraph fall, already anxious I do not know what year placed, can only see an empty horse messenger and over, is survived by a ground clouds. The depths of winter, snow across the glass to listen to the voice very quiet.Falling snow day, holding a cup of warm Qingming, also always let yourself forget the warmth.Quietly standing on the white city, the passage of time, while cool tones over the ear, but also do not know Wang Chuan years is enough.Overnight Ice, frozen whisper rain, snow scene qi night, the Allure thoughts, submerged space dyed several times? I wrote a lot of words, used many pen, but the memories of each segment, each of the text, but still can not get rid of you. Palm palm, squandered a wound trace trace.Admit that he is a weak person, always fit those memories scattered and fragmentary, indulging himself in a river Autumn, the fondly written between the lines.They say, you saw a lot of text, it will fall.Ms sister also said: dedication of before, is executed jump.Many times, want to try other pen wind, but then nothing own language, perhaps, really put down that part of the past, those memories will bid farewell to all the writing. Three years ago, if you wind, I just wanted you to the ground, run to rhetoric only to win the roots of smile. After three years, you have to dust, but I would like to have the wind in the name of light streaming Yan wrote turnover ask to borrow only for lonely hearts. Day, also gradually shallow breathing, I, along with a wisp of wind, listening to the quiet of snow, blissful silence.