"Hongyan, in the sky, line up in pairs. The river is long, the autumn grass is yellow, and the grassland is sad ... "
Simple and poetic lyrics outline an empty, desolate and distant picture: in autumn, the clear sky passes by rows of geese, and the vast grassland is no longer lush and fresh in spring and summer, only some yellow grass rustles in the wind. The person standing in front of the yurt looked up at the geese for a long time, full of sadness, and had to play the piano to solve it. Unexpectedly, the singer's range is as wide as the grassland. It sounds like the Ergon River, but it is slightly sad. Every sentence beats my heart, reminding me of the most precious words in life: hometown, mother, childhood, blue sky, clear river, distant love ... After listening to it again and again, there is a soft thing wrapped around my heart, almost crying.
Maybe it's because I recently read the collection of essays by Mongolian writer Barguet vilen, vilen on vilen. As soon as I hear Hongyan, I think of vilen. Vilen said, "The long tune gives grassland life an amber luster, and tells people in heaven to be grateful for life". The sadness in Hongyan, like a Mongolian long tune, is a song from the depths of Mongolian soul, a reverence and gratitude for nature, and a prayer for cherishing the green grass and blue sky environment and living a quiet life under the protection of eternal life. This kind of sadness includes the pain of people leaving their homes and their loved ones forever for thousands of years, and the sense of helplessness that people can't control time, space and destiny. Under the pressure of time, rivers are cut off, and grass is desertified due to uncontrolled development. How can it not worry people? This is not only the sorrow of the Mongols, but also the sorrow of all mankind.
"Hongyan, south, flying over the reeds. The sky is boundless, where the geese return, and the heart is the hometown of the north ... "
The wings of Hongyan bear the beautiful hometown. The necessity of flying from the north to the south makes the north an eternal hometown. Migration means parting, and parting involves missing. Goose is like this, so are people? Everyone's life comes from his hometown, and everyone's memory hides a gentle river, lush forests, curling kitchen smoke and a smiling face of his mother. Even if you go to the ends of the earth, your hometown will always be rooted in the depths of your blood, always waiting to summon the lost soul. When a person is desperate, he will show the original innocence of life in generate. I like those who insist on working on the plateau, with simple eyes and shy smiles. I was moved by those people with dark faces and prayer wheels in their hands and sincere beliefs. I was shocked by those who were in rags, kowtowing step by step and worshipping. They often don't talk much, but their firm beliefs, like water that never dries up on the grassland, are pure and firm.
"Hongyan, back to the north, with my thoughts. The song is long, the piano is rustling, and the spring on the grassland is warm in bloom ... "
The singer of the song is "Ergon Band", a four-person singing group. I don't know the names of the members, but I think they have a good eye for the name of this band. Ergon is a river that often appears in Barguet vilen's works. This is a Xiangjiang River, which Genghis Khan drank, used by thousands of Mongolian families to make tea, and used by the army to wash military forces. Ergon's Chinese meaning is "handling things personally", which means "dedication". It is the mother river of the Mongols. Vilen described the singing and conversation of herdsmen, livestock and courtyards in pastoral areas with affectionate and humorous brushwork, and wrote the characters such as Mantega, Gerile, Ashan, Liang Yun and Sarenqige, which were vivid and impressive. When listening to "Wild Goose", I saw the faces of these people one by one. I saw them laughing, milking, sitting together singing and looking for cattle and sheep in the snow. I feel a kind of vastness from the grassland and a kind of warmth from the essence of life.
"Hongyan, heaven, how far is it? Drink the wine dry, then fill it up, and don't get drunk tonight. "
The song is still ringing in my ears, and the sadness in the red rock fascinates me. I think, if I am on the grassland at this moment and listen to this song, I will drink one cup after another in the melodious sound of Ma Touqin, just like a lofty Mongolian facing the grassland, and I will never get drunk.