On the evening of the Dragon Boat Festival, Wen Nuan prepared dinner early. After waiting for a long time, she finally received a call from Wen Rou, who was full of apologies. She had a big client to entertain and could not come to dinner. Facing the table full of food alone, Wen Nuan had no appetite and picked up a disc of Angel's Piano and put it on the record player. Www!QUaNbEn-xIAoShUO!cOM
It is possible to find traces of Irish folk songs in music genres around the world. Celtic culture is the source of world music.
Ireland is the most suitable country to stage The Wizard of Oz, with its vast sky, rolling mountains, vast blue seas, and a beautiful witch who is proficient in white magic living in a huge dark castle deep in the forest. Her long hair flutters to the ground, and her harp is next to the stove. When she looks back, her eyes are as pure as emeralds.
In Scotland and Ireland in the 12th and 13th centuries, there were countless romantic and tragic legends: the bards singing folk songs at banquets, the round skirts swaying and spinning under the silver candlesticks, the hereditary nobles serving the king and the warriors who were titled after the war. All the lords of the territories were given castles, fields, horses and slaves, and even the common people had their property owned forever.
The deep, lingering, half-bright and half-dim impression of that place originally came from ancient European romantic novels. After reading various original works and gaining historical knowledge about various systems, local customs, clothing and accessories, she sincerely fell in love with the place she had never been to in her previous life, and fell in love with the knights who wielded swords in ancient times.
Finally, she stepped onto that plateau herself and listened to the moving music.
And her favorite may sound familiar to others when they hear it.
The MV is so simple that from the beginning to the end, the whole picture only shows a face. The emerald-like eyes seem innocent. With each line of the song, the eyelashes droop lightly, and the face with half-closed eyes is filled with silent melancholy... nothing compares to you, you are incomparable.
In addition to the ancient melodious chants that flow through the mountains and forests to this day, there are countless literary masters in Ireland's long history. Yeats, who is mysterious, melancholy and full of Pre-Raphaelite imagery, said:
If I had the clothes of heaven
Woven with golden and silver light
This blue, gray and black fabric
Of night, day and dawn
I will lay them at your feet
When Wen Nuan realized in her confusion that the discordant rustling in the piano music came from the keyhole, the door was suddenly opened, and the soft light from the corridor slanted into the completely dark room. The moment she jumped up in panic, the hall was suddenly bright, so dazzling that she immediately covered her eyelashes with her hands.
Wenrou, who was standing at the door, was stunned. "What are you doing—"
Wen Nuan said nothing, turned off the music and walked towards the bedroom, "Do as you please."
Wenrou was still unresponsive, and she only subconsciously said to the person next to her, "This is the first time I've seen her cry."
Zhan Nanxian looked at the bedroom door that was closed tightly without a single gap. When the light came on, he saw her long wet eyelashes, red pupils, and two silent traces of sad tears on her face.
Wenrou turned her head and asked, "What day is today?"
"kindness?"
"Why are you downstairs from her? And she's crying?"
He didn't answer. After a moment, a faint smile with a hint of deep meaning appeared on his lips, "Let's go."