Author: Li Li.
December is such a month.
The cold wind blew the moonlight.
Silently and quietly.
Embrace the white death.
At the bottom of the arc of life.
The north wind howls, and everything sleeps.
Wait for a snow to come down gently.
Nature takes December as a round of life.
January to January, year to year.
From the silence of January.
Wake up to February.
Roses bloomed on the March hair.
In April, the smoke and rain are spreading, green, fat, red and thin.
May sits opposite the east wind, and the partridges sound.
The noise of cicadas in June, the fragrance of freshly ripened wheat.
Wandering in July, wandering in strong winds and rains.
In August, the ferry boat is in the moonlight, and the night is like ink.
September is cool, and the yellow leaves are in formation.
Stacking layers of sentimentality.
In October, the full moon gradually fell into a lack of moon.
Through the high reaches of November.
It's December silence.
December is after the silence of life.
It is also before the beginning of the coming spring.
Hold your heart and wait for a long time.
One snow and another.
A bright reflection of each other.
Snowy December.
It's a cold December night.
The end of the years is in the sky.
The sky and the earth are green, and the cold forest is bleak.
A single-track railroad track winds in.
The desolate land after the harvest.
From afar, to faraway places.
A long way to pass through here.
It was the first day of solitude in December.
Toss it into the wind.
Let the memories fend for themselves in your heart.
Let a line of footprints gradually drift away.
Why December is so solemn.
Not like joy, but like arrival.
A way for darker things.
Searching for the soul and finding the iron of heaven.
When time stands at the tail end of a year.
When the work is nearing its end.