# who overturned the spring By [raindrop](https://paragraph.com/@raindrop-2) · 2022-08-30 --- The hedges are sparse and sparse a path deep, and the flowers on the tree heads have not fallen into shade. ​​ The child hurriedly ran after the yellow butterfly, and flew into the cauliflower with nowhere to be found. ​​ ![](https://storage.googleapis.com/papyrus_images/d277095549f64c8e3deb61b433f7c9b83987566180414355d25dc14dcf80b64b.png) ——Yang Wanli, "Xugong Store in Suxin City" ​​ On a fine spring day in the Southern Song Dynasty, the poet went to Xinshi to find wine. A person, a horse, walking in the countryside, with grass on the street, green shirts upright, all in a leisurely life. He has passed the age of no confusion, knows the destiny, and conforms to the age, with a good spring in his heart, flying verses, broken rivers and mountains... Those are his splendid beauty and his sadness. ​​ When he arrived at Xihekou, the diligent shop assistant tied a horse for him and put him with aged wine. The splendid spring sun hit the wine glass, passing through several faint sounds of money tossing, and there was a taste of peace and prosperity in the trance. ​​ He looked up and looked out the window, the hedge was sparse, the path was deep, the cauliflower in the distance was blooming gorgeously, and the breath of spring was surging in the fragrance of the flowers. By the fence, three or two little children were catching a yellow butterfly, chattering and ignoring the sorrows of the world. The butterfly was east, west, high, and low for a while, causing them to hold their breath for a while, hesitate for a while, run in a hurry, and feel at a loss for a while. It's about to be caught, a little closer, a little closer... Who would have thought that the butterfly turned over and flew into the cauliflower bushes, and they would never be able to find it again, ah, so sorry. ​​ ![](https://storage.googleapis.com/papyrus_images/20c993d7bb8c599e5639c3672d9170b0bfda5144bd8b8fc470c69df6ff85ccc2.png) In the playful figures of the children, he seemed to see the shadow of his childhood, so he laughed softly with the help of wine and memories-how many years of old butterfly fluttering left behind in that piece of cauliflower yellow? ​​ It was night, he drank heavily and stayed in Xugongdian. When I woke up the next day, with a third of my thoughts and a third of my afterlife, in the morning light of spring, I wrote this poem: "The fence is sparsely sparse and a path is deep, and the flowers on the top of the tree are not yet shaded. The children rush to chase the yellow. Butterfly, fly into the cauliflower and find nowhere." ​​ Natural things always suit my taste. If it is contaminated with some rural atmosphere, it will be even more exciting. This kind of heartbeat is like butterfly wings. As soon as it is opened and closed, there will be a vigorous floral fragrance blowing on the face, with the interest of childhood. ​​ When reading such a poem, one will think of Feng Zikai's paintings. There are not too many complicated lines and colors, and the emotion and picture quality are very natural. The children's cartoons written by him, like his writing style, are all graceful and quiet, innocent and self-satisfied. ​​ In that "Children's Play", it was two children fluttering butterflies. The little boy used a palm fan to pat the low-flying yellow butterfly, bent his back, and pulled up his trousers. The little girl took a paper fan and stood with her hands behind her back. Her half-length shirt showed her arms and calves like lotus roots. ​​ A few years ago, I watched the movie "Aromatic Journey", and I never forgot that piece of rapeseed. Hundreds of thousands of acres of cauliflower fields bloom as if to shred the entire season. Who overturned the spring? This is a feast of flowers. ​​ A few days ago, I went to the riverside to see cauliflower. Although I came late, luckily I didn't miss it. Because of the construction of river embankments, the area of ​​rapeseed on the banks has been reduced compared to before. Despite this, the tangy floral fragrance is still domineering, and anyone who can plunge into it will choke a happy somersault. The color is also very flamboyant, with large pieces of bright yellow, like a paint bucket spilled over, and the bedding is almost a waste. ​​ A few old cows graze in the field, like a few boats moored in a sea of ​​flowers. Shepherds without butterflies. The weeping willows are swaying, and it is the sound of cars in the distance and the fragrance of flowers in the vicinity, as well as the mood of a wanderer who has aged prematurely. --- *Originally published on [raindrop](https://paragraph.com/@raindrop-2/who-overturned-the-spring)*