Listen to the moonlight

The night is already deep. A few of the sparse stars in the sky are slightly chilly. Only that crooked moon, in the deep night, looming in a few floating clouds. The cool light, like water pouring, jade-like cold, is no longer the world of thousands of lights.

I stood under the window and looked at the moon outside the window silently. The bottom of my heart was gentle and moving. Everything is blue, full of dreamy light blue.

There was snow yesterday. The snow from the Xiling, sprinkled us all over the city. So tonight, it is extraordinarily quiet and far-reaching. The ubiquitous blue light falls on the snow like a deep lake.

Looking at this dreamy world, looking at the moon in this sky, suddenly, my heart was impulsive, and it seemed that I had no time to think. My hands gently opened the lid and opened the score.

The spectrum in front of Debussy's "Moonlight".

Raising his hands, he suddenly felt that his hand was giving a lot of strength. I didn't turn on the light, the faint moonlight came in from the window and slanted on the keys. The black and white keys are magical and solemn in the moonlight, and it seems that there are gods who dominate them.

The music begins in a silence.

A few soft two-tone chords echoed, as if it was a light moonlight, and there was a safe in peace. This is followed by the appearance of a melody, with the right hand and the left hand chord forming a different atmosphere. The music began to flow, the moon began to travel through the clouds, and the moonlight sprinkled a mottled, moving shadow on the ground.

A small climax appears under the layers. The octave chords of the right hand create a singular tone that is clear and harmonious.

The music was quiet again. The extremely low sound and the high melody were separated by three octaves. It was far and clear, and the sound was thick and thick, like the ancient bells of the church.

For a moment, my heart suddenly shocked. The keys under the fingers moved and changed, becoming a lively elf, jumping and dancing. My fingers flew on the piano, like the ballet's toes, light and solid.

Perhaps it was the night of a hundred years ago, the banks of the Seine in France: the cold months, like washing in the river, it is generally clear; the clouds, like the blue yarn, are light and light. The sound of the violin lingering around the ear.

Perhaps it is tonight, before the waterfall of China's Huangguoshu: the moon is empty, the high cliffs and the sloping rocks make the water into fog, splashing water drops, overlapping rocks, and it is extraordinarily mysterious and holy under the moonlight. In the distance, there is a melodious snoring, and if it continues, it is like a cry. There is also the dark fragrance of plum blossoms and the coolness of the mountain wind...

At the end of the song, a string of leisurely Boeing seems to have nothing. As if waking up from my dreams, I think of it: the sea rises in the bright moon, the end of the earth is at this time...

The first day of Wubei Wuzhong: Wu Silao