Mount Tai has awakened.
The first to wake were the stone steps of Nantian Gate. Overnight, tender green grass shoots emerged from the crevices between the steps, like scattered emerald beads glowing softly in the morning light. On the steps, the carrying poles of the porters creaked, and where their sweat fell, wildflowers bloomed in scattered patches.
I followed the stream of people ascending the steps. The stone path of the Eighteen Bends resembled a winding jade ribbon, faintly visible through the morning mist. The mountain breeze carried the fragrance of peach blossoms from afar. Rounding a bend, I suddenly saw an apricot tree slanting out from the cliff, its pink-white petals trembling in the wind, as if greeting the passing travelers.
In the pine forest halfway up the mountain, spring was in full bloom. The new needles on the old pine branches were a vibrant green, contrasting beautifully with the dark brown of the older needles. Sunlight filtered
At the summit, the Jade Emperor Peak was shrouded in a sea of clouds. The rising sun dyed the clouds golden-red. In the distance, the peaks were a deep blue, while nearby, mountain flowers bloomed in profusion. Standing at the Sunrise Viewing Peak, the land of Qi and Lu stretched out before me. The wheat fields shimmered with fresh green, rivers snaked like silver ribbons, and the smoke from village chimneys rose, blending with the mountain mist.
The mountain streams rushed joyfully, carrying the coolness of melted snow as they washed over age-old pebbles. Wildflowers along the banks competed in splendor—yellow winter jasmine, purple violets, white shepherd's purse—turning the stream banks into a tapestry of color. A few mountain sparrows hopped among the flowers, their chirping mingling with the sound of flowing water to create a springtime symphony.
The ancient cypresses of Dai Temple also donned new attire. On the branches of thousand-year-old trees, fresh green leaves contrasted with gnarled old limbs. The stone tablets beneath the trees bore inscriptions from literati of past dynasties, their carvings clearer in the spring light. A pair of swallows returned with mud in their beaks, building a nest under the eaves, adding a touch of vitality to the ancient temple.
In the mountain tea gardens, farmers were picking new buds. The tender green tea leaves trembled gently in bamboo baskets, emitting a delicate fragrance. From a distant mountain temple, the resonant toll of a bell mingled with the songs of tea-picking women, echoing through the valley.
As evening approached, I sat on the steps of Nantian Gate, watching the sunset paint the sea of clouds in golden-red hues. The mountain breeze grew stronger, carrying the sound of rustling pines. In the distance, the city lights began to twinkle, mirroring the stars above. Mount Tai stood majestic in the twilight, yet with a touch of gentleness.
As night fell, lights gradually illuminated the mountainside. Viewed from the Jade Emperor Peak, they resembled a celestial river descending to earth. The mountain breeze carried the scent of flowers, mingled with the fragrance of pine resin, refreshing the soul. At this moment, Mount Tai exuded both the tenderness of spring and the grandeur of its towering presence.
Spring has come to Mount Tai, and all things are reborn. This ancient mountain, caressed by the spring breeze, radiates new vitality. The moss on the steps is greener, the streams clearer, and the new leaves on ancient trees more vibrant. Even the thousand-year-old stone carvings seem to come alive under the nourishing spring rain.
Standing at the summit, I gazed at the distant horizon. The spring breeze brushed my face, carrying scents from afar. Mount Tai remains steadfast, yet with the arrival of spring, it has gained a touch of liveliness and grace. This mountain, which has witnessed countless seasons, continues to reveal its charm in its own unique way this spring.
Spring on Mount Tai is not just a renewal of nature but also a cleansing of the soul. On this ancient mountain, every new leaf tells a story of life, and every wildflower blooms with the light of hope. The spring of Mount Tai is beautiful to the eye, but even more so to the heart.
《春来泰山》
泰山醒了。
最先醒来的是南天门的石阶。一夜之间，阶缝里钻出了嫩绿的草芽，像是谁不经意间撒落的翡翠珠子，在晨光中泛着温润的光。石阶上，挑夫们的扁担吱呀作响，汗水滴落处，竟也开出了星星点点的野花。
我随着人流拾级而上。十八盘的石阶像一条蜿蜒的玉带，在晨雾中若隐若现。山风拂过，带来远处桃花的芬芳。转过一个弯，忽见一树杏花从峭壁间斜逸而出，粉白的花瓣在风中轻颤，仿佛在向过往的游人致意。
山腰的松林里，春意正浓。老松枝头的新针翠绿欲滴，与深褐色的老针相映成趣。松针间漏下的阳光，在地上织就斑驳的光影。偶尔有松鼠从枝头掠过，惊落几滴晨露，打湿了游人的衣襟。
玉皇顶上，云海翻涌。朝阳初升，将云层染成金红。远处的山峰如黛，近处的山花烂漫。站在观日峰上，但见云开处，齐鲁大地尽收眼底。麦田泛着新绿，河流如银带蜿蜒，村庄的炊烟袅袅升起，与山间的云雾融为一体。
山涧的溪流欢快地奔涌着，带着融雪的清冽，冲刷着经年的卵石。溪边的野花竞相开放，黄的迎春、紫的二月兰、白的荠菜花，将溪岸装点得如同锦绣。几只山雀在花间跳跃，啁啾声与流水声交织成春日的乐章。
岱庙的古柏也换上了新装。千年古树的枝头，嫩绿的新叶与苍劲的老枝相映成趣。树下的石碑上，历代文人墨客的题刻在春光中愈发清晰。一对燕子衔泥归来，在檐角筑巢，为这古老的庙宇增添了几分生气。
山间的茶园里，茶农们正在采摘新芽。嫩绿的茶叶在竹篓中轻轻颤动，散发着淡淡的清香。远处的山寺传来悠扬的钟声，与采茶女的歌声交织在一起，在山谷间回荡。
傍晚时分，我坐在南天门的石阶上，看着夕阳将云海染成金红色。山风渐起，带来阵阵松涛。远处的城市灯火初上，与天上的繁星相映成趣。泰山在暮色中显得愈发巍峨，却又透着几分温柔。
夜幕降临，山间的灯火次第亮起。从玉皇顶俯瞰，宛如天上的星河落入凡间。山风送来阵阵花香，夹杂着松脂的清香，沁人心脾。此时的泰山，既有春日的温婉，又不失巍峨的气度。
春来泰山，万物复苏。这座古老的山岳，在春风的抚慰下焕发出新的生机。石阶上的青苔更绿了，山涧的溪水更清了，古树的新叶更翠了。就连那些历经千年的石刻，在春雨的滋润下，也仿佛有了新的生命。
我站在山顶，望着远方的地平线。春风拂面，带来远方的气息。泰山依旧巍然屹立，却因着春天的到来，多了几分灵动与温柔。这座见证了无数春秋的山岳，在这个春天里，依然以它独有的方式，向世人展示着它的魅力。
春来泰山，不仅是自然的复苏，更是心灵的洗礼。在这座古老的山岳上，每一片新叶都在诉说着生命的故事，每一朵野花都在绽放着希望的光芒。泰山之春，美在眼中，更在心中。
