One after another high threshold, one after another long steps, one after another majestic hall, one after another deep courtyard. Qinzhuan, Hanwa, Tangsong, Songbai and Qingbei. The ancients are far away. They can only look up to the Glass Palace on the ten thousand steps. Their thoughts are far away. In the front, the majesty of the sage is high. In the green grass, you can still imagine the style of disciple SangAn. Behind you, the red wall is still dazzling though it has been eroded by rain and wind. It seems that it can still reflect the figure standing still in the lightning for thousands of years. No one can tell how many times the sun rises and the moon falls, but everyone knows that there is an ancient soul that cannot be separated on this holy land. He gazed at every corner of Kyushu day and night as promised, because every inch of land was infused with the blood of his broad thoughts. To be sure, he had seen the open-minded mountains and rivers, the lights of the people in the alleys, the sadness of Hu Ma's hissing wind, and the heroic roaring up to the sky. But in the end, he remained here, listening to the evening drums and the morning bells day after day, and receiving the visits of ordinary people.
不知不觉,己走到路的尽头,回过身去看,这仅仅是一个古老的庭院吗?不,那是岁月留痕刻下的一帧残简。曾经,大地是它浩荡的书瓦一砖一瓦是它挥洒的字印。如今,它只剩下一阙断章,立于纷嚣凡尘,供今人悬想她原先的厚重与繁华。
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