Poetics of Chengdu Garden City

Author: Zhong Zhiming

The Millennium old weir, from Hanwu, Qin Huang to today, has shed a paradise on earth, nourishing the dreams of many Chengdu people. It was the dream of the ancestors with long ears, the dream of Can Cong Yufu, the dream of the poet Du Fu, and the dream of you and me.

Enjoy the snow in Xiling and pick chrysanthemums in Dongli; Qingcheng asked, Huanglong boating. We look for the footprints of old Chengdu in Kuanzhai Lane, we listen to the breath of new Chengdu in the towering buildings, and we will feel the pulse of the city in the fast subway. Looking at your familiar and unfamiliar face, I am intoxicated in your dream.

Peach blossoms all over the mountain are your gorgeous dress. Every March, you decorate the eyes of distant tourists with your graceful dance. Are they looking for a smile for the Millennium agreement? Sang Tian Cang Hai, peach blossoms remain the same.

High-heeled shoes wake up the deep sleep of octagonal well, and the bluestone leaves the envy of blue eyes; We sing in the yard where our ancestors sighed, not on the roof of the blue tile. How did our ancestors find their way home? Looking up into the distance, is that a mirage?

There are no more smoke curling in the mountains, no more rickets in the mountain roads, no more long cries in Shan Ye, a green barrier decorating farmers' new homes, and children in the mountains sowing new hopes in the cities and grazing their ancestors' dreams.

Ling Tao didn't know where to go, and he didn't plow in Taohuayuan. Millennium dream, our reality, the city is in the field, the garden is in the city, the dream is pastoral, not a dream!