Gfrun
@fenyizi.bsky.social
The cliff, in the rain, weeps into a green sea.
The sea draws up its curtain, yet can not hide the goddess’s face.
The sea draws up its curtain, yet can not hide the goddess’s face.
The Manneport, Etretat in the Rain - 1885/1886
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/10203
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/10203
December 19, 2025 at 8:13 PM
The cliff, in the rain, weeps into a green sea.
The sea draws up its curtain, yet can not hide the goddess’s face.
The sea draws up its curtain, yet can not hide the goddess’s face.
‘Wheatfield under Thunderclouds’, 1890 © Van Gogh Museum
The state of clouds may be a state of beauty.
When the time comes, speak not of your power to bring rain;
It is your very innocence that moves us most — White Clouds
— Wang Anshi（1021-1086)
The state of clouds may be a state of beauty.
When the time comes, speak not of your power to bring rain;
It is your very innocence that moves us most — White Clouds
— Wang Anshi（1021-1086)
December 19, 2025 at 5:14 PM
‘Wheatfield under Thunderclouds’, 1890 © Van Gogh Museum
The state of clouds may be a state of beauty.
When the time comes, speak not of your power to bring rain;
It is your very innocence that moves us most — White Clouds
— Wang Anshi（1021-1086)
The state of clouds may be a state of beauty.
When the time comes, speak not of your power to bring rain;
It is your very innocence that moves us most — White Clouds
— Wang Anshi（1021-1086)
White silk
Moonlight
A flying mirror.
Moonlight
A flying mirror.
Water lilies - 1907
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/3110469
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/3110469
December 19, 2025 at 5:13 AM
White silk
Moonlight
A flying mirror.
Moonlight
A flying mirror.
Haha 😄 what about this one?
December 17, 2025 at 7:25 PM
Haha 😄 what about this one?
And now, watch the crows and sparrows at play in the newly cleared sky.
From "Staying at Qianming Temple After Snow"
Su Shi（1037-1101）, Song Dynasty
From "Staying at Qianming Temple After Snow"
Su Shi（1037-1101）, Song Dynasty
The Magpie - 1868/1869
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/7285
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/7285
December 17, 2025 at 5:17 AM
And now, watch the crows and sparrows at play in the newly cleared sky.
From "Staying at Qianming Temple After Snow"
Su Shi（1037-1101）, Song Dynasty
From "Staying at Qianming Temple After Snow"
Su Shi（1037-1101）, Song Dynasty
Morning upon the shimmering waves
dances in blue,
bit by bit.
A thousand ripples of blue—
each the ocean's own hue.
dances in blue,
bit by bit.
A thousand ripples of blue—
each the ocean's own hue.
The Havre, the trade bassin - 1874
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/8282
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/8282
December 16, 2025 at 3:12 AM
Morning upon the shimmering waves
dances in blue,
bit by bit.
A thousand ripples of blue—
each the ocean's own hue.
dances in blue,
bit by bit.
A thousand ripples of blue—
each the ocean's own hue.
Monet found a cliff in the sky,
fulfilling the dialogue of "I am the universe".
fulfilling the dialogue of "I am the universe".
The Manneporte - 1886
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/3110143
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/3110143
December 15, 2025 at 11:43 PM
Monet found a cliff in the sky,
fulfilling the dialogue of "I am the universe".
fulfilling the dialogue of "I am the universe".
A silly tree standing alone in the midst,
Clapping its hands with all its might each time,
Like the last spectator reluctant to leave the sunset glow.🤣🤣
Clapping its hands with all its might each time,
Like the last spectator reluctant to leave the sunset glow.🤣🤣
The Small Arm of the Seine at Mosseaux, Evening - 1878
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/9024
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/9024
December 14, 2025 at 6:22 PM
A silly tree standing alone in the midst,
Clapping its hands with all its might each time,
Like the last spectator reluctant to leave the sunset glow.🤣🤣
Clapping its hands with all its might each time,
Like the last spectator reluctant to leave the sunset glow.🤣🤣
Landscape with Bridge across the Oise - 1890,Vincent
A boatful of clear dreams weighs down the starry river.
— Tang Gong, Yuan Dynasty
A boatful of clear dreams weighs down the starry river.
— Tang Gong, Yuan Dynasty
December 14, 2025 at 4:53 AM
Landscape with Bridge across the Oise - 1890,Vincent
A boatful of clear dreams weighs down the starry river.
— Tang Gong, Yuan Dynasty
A boatful of clear dreams weighs down the starry river.
— Tang Gong, Yuan Dynasty
As dusk sinks,
it falls into the sea.
When the waves grow still,
they become grains of sand.
Ships that occupie the sky—
from afar, it seems stranded;
up close, it is moving.
Only the sail feels
the sea moving forward.
it falls into the sea.
When the waves grow still,
they become grains of sand.
Ships that occupie the sky—
from afar, it seems stranded;
up close, it is moving.
Only the sail feels
the sea moving forward.
Fishing Boats at Sea - 1868/1869
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/6881
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/6881
December 14, 2025 at 3:21 AM
As dusk sinks,
it falls into the sea.
When the waves grow still,
they become grains of sand.
Ships that occupie the sky—
from afar, it seems stranded;
up close, it is moving.
Only the sail feels
the sea moving forward.
it falls into the sea.
When the waves grow still,
they become grains of sand.
Ships that occupie the sky—
from afar, it seems stranded;
up close, it is moving.
Only the sail feels
the sea moving forward.
Field with Poppies - 1890,Vincent.
Poppy Field, Argenteuil - 1875,Monet.
Van Gogh, in judgment of the poppies.
Monet is talking about the weather.😄
Poppy Field, Argenteuil - 1875,Monet.
Van Gogh, in judgment of the poppies.
Monet is talking about the weather.😄
December 13, 2025 at 8:30 PM
Field with Poppies - 1890,Vincent.
Poppy Field, Argenteuil - 1875,Monet.
Van Gogh, in judgment of the poppies.
Monet is talking about the weather.😄
Poppy Field, Argenteuil - 1875,Monet.
Van Gogh, in judgment of the poppies.
Monet is talking about the weather.😄
Vincent: Wheat Field with a Lark - 1887
Wheat Field with Cypresses - 1889,
Green Wheat Fields - 1890
The Wheat Field - 1881,Monet
Van Gogh: a vajra-like wrathful rebellion, as if ready to leap off the Earth.
Monet: a serene, harmonious self-consistency, as if already returned to the cosmos.
Wheat Field with Cypresses - 1889,
Green Wheat Fields - 1890
The Wheat Field - 1881,Monet
Van Gogh: a vajra-like wrathful rebellion, as if ready to leap off the Earth.
Monet: a serene, harmonious self-consistency, as if already returned to the cosmos.
December 13, 2025 at 6:15 PM
Vincent: Wheat Field with a Lark - 1887
Wheat Field with Cypresses - 1889,
Green Wheat Fields - 1890
The Wheat Field - 1881,Monet
Van Gogh: a vajra-like wrathful rebellion, as if ready to leap off the Earth.
Monet: a serene, harmonious self-consistency, as if already returned to the cosmos.
Wheat Field with Cypresses - 1889,
Green Wheat Fields - 1890
The Wheat Field - 1881,Monet
Van Gogh: a vajra-like wrathful rebellion, as if ready to leap off the Earth.
Monet: a serene, harmonious self-consistency, as if already returned to the cosmos.
The Red Hut by the Sea
To memorize the words taught by the ocean,
She learned to tell the sound of the wind.
To memorize the words taught by the ocean,
She learned to tell the sound of the wind.
In 1874, Monet shocked tradition by hanging pastels, watercolors, and oils together. 🎨
On paper or canvas, every work was an equal.
On paper or canvas, every work was an equal.
December 13, 2025 at 3:27 PM
The Red Hut by the Sea
To memorize the words taught by the ocean,
She learned to tell the sound of the wind.
To memorize the words taught by the ocean,
She learned to tell the sound of the wind.
A delightful book is quickly read through;
A welcome guest is slow to come.
The world often thwarts our wishes this way；
How many times in life does a joyful heart truly open?
Quatrain
— Chen Shidao (1052–1101)
A welcome guest is slow to come.
The world often thwarts our wishes this way；
How many times in life does a joyful heart truly open?
Quatrain
— Chen Shidao (1052–1101)
A Woman Reading (Springtime ) - 1872
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/7757
https://botfrens.com/collections/41/contents/7757
December 12, 2025 at 9:06 PM
A delightful book is quickly read through;
A welcome guest is slow to come.
The world often thwarts our wishes this way；
How many times in life does a joyful heart truly open?
Quatrain
— Chen Shidao (1052–1101)
A welcome guest is slow to come.
The world often thwarts our wishes this way；
How many times in life does a joyful heart truly open?
Quatrain
— Chen Shidao (1052–1101)
The wheat field grows wheat downward,
and upward, it grows clouds.
and upward, it grows clouds.
Green Wheat Fields - 1890
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14780
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14780
December 12, 2025 at 4:48 AM
The wheat field grows wheat downward,
and upward, it grows clouds.
and upward, it grows clouds.
Vincent van Gogh, First Steps, after Millet - 1890
Mother’s hands help us stand,
Father’s open arms guide our first steps.
Between them a river we can never cross in a lifetime-
be it tears or gazes.
Mother’s hands help us stand,
Father’s open arms guide our first steps.
Between them a river we can never cross in a lifetime-
be it tears or gazes.
December 12, 2025 at 2:47 AM
Vincent van Gogh, First Steps, after Millet - 1890
Mother’s hands help us stand,
Father’s open arms guide our first steps.
Between them a river we can never cross in a lifetime-
be it tears or gazes.
Mother’s hands help us stand,
Father’s open arms guide our first steps.
Between them a river we can never cross in a lifetime-
be it tears or gazes.
Monet might have painted the seasons,
while Van Gogh painted life.😄
Snow Effect, The Boulevard de Pontoise at Argenteuil - 1875
Snowy Landscape with Arles in the Background - 1888
while Van Gogh painted life.😄
Snow Effect, The Boulevard de Pontoise at Argenteuil - 1875
Snowy Landscape with Arles in the Background - 1888
December 11, 2025 at 3:36 PM
Monet might have painted the seasons,
while Van Gogh painted life.😄
Snow Effect, The Boulevard de Pontoise at Argenteuil - 1875
Snowy Landscape with Arles in the Background - 1888
while Van Gogh painted life.😄
Snow Effect, The Boulevard de Pontoise at Argenteuil - 1875
Snowy Landscape with Arles in the Background - 1888
A sparrow in the tree suddenly fell down one day—you couldn’t tell whether it died of old age or sickness.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
December 11, 2025 at 3:32 AM
A sparrow in the tree suddenly fell down one day—you couldn’t tell whether it died of old age or sickness.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
In the endless arid land, the sheaves of wheat are the only dense patches of light. Arranged so neatly, it is as if the wilderness has finally organized its own language, with every sheaf serving as a resolute word.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
Wheat Field with Sheaves - 1888
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14506
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14506
December 11, 2025 at 12:34 AM
In the endless arid land, the sheaves of wheat are the only dense patches of light. Arranged so neatly, it is as if the wilderness has finally organized its own language, with every sheaf serving as a resolute word.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
Perhaps each daisy is an unspoken word.
When they gather into a field, the wilderness gains its own grammar.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
When they gather into a field, the wilderness gains its own grammar.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
Vase with Daisies - 1887
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14203
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14203
December 11, 2025 at 12:29 AM
Perhaps each daisy is an unspoken word.
When they gather into a field, the wilderness gains its own grammar.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
When they gather into a field, the wilderness gains its own grammar.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
The slanting light fell upon the stocking in her hands, and the tip of her needle lifted the afterglow like a thread of fine gold, as if stitching the sunset itself into the patch.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
Peasant Woman Darning Stockings - March 1885
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/3109274
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/3109274
December 11, 2025 at 12:23 AM
The slanting light fell upon the stocking in her hands, and the tip of her needle lifted the afterglow like a thread of fine gold, as if stitching the sunset itself into the patch.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
The pine tree stands at the village entrance, as if it had been standing there even before I was born. Its needles turn green, then wither, then green again—yet that green is not new growth, but the patina rubbed thin by the passage of old time.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
A Weather-Beaten Pine Tree - 1889
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14533
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14533
December 10, 2025 at 7:55 PM
The pine tree stands at the village entrance, as if it had been standing there even before I was born. Its needles turn green, then wither, then green again—yet that green is not new growth, but the patina rubbed thin by the passage of old time.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
Beauty 1969
By Gu Cheng
The beauty I long for
Is eternity and life,
Who knew they’d be as incompatible as fire and water:
Eternal beauty, dazzling and rare,
Yet feelingless and untouched;
Life’s beauty, ever-changing,
Yet destined to turn to ashes.
By Gu Cheng
The beauty I long for
Is eternity and life,
Who knew they’d be as incompatible as fire and water:
Eternal beauty, dazzling and rare,
Yet feelingless and untouched;
Life’s beauty, ever-changing,
Yet destined to turn to ashes.
December 10, 2025 at 5:02 PM
Beauty 1969
By Gu Cheng
The beauty I long for
Is eternity and life,
Who knew they’d be as incompatible as fire and water:
Eternal beauty, dazzling and rare,
Yet feelingless and untouched;
Life’s beauty, ever-changing,
Yet destined to turn to ashes.
By Gu Cheng
The beauty I long for
Is eternity and life,
Who knew they’d be as incompatible as fire and water:
Eternal beauty, dazzling and rare,
Yet feelingless and untouched;
Life’s beauty, ever-changing,
Yet destined to turn to ashes.
I squatted on the ridge between fields, gazing at a wild yellow flower. So tiny it was, yet it seemed to hold up the entire wilderness. It struck me then—both this flower and I were left here by this land, lingering into the present day.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
A Field of Yellow Flowers - 1889
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14526
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/14526
December 10, 2025 at 4:24 PM
I squatted on the ridge between fields, gazing at a wild yellow flower. So tiny it was, yet it seemed to hold up the entire wilderness. It struck me then—both this flower and I were left here by this land, lingering into the present day.
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
—Liu Liangcheng, A Person's Village
I hoist the rake onto my shoulder like a cumbersome weapon, and walk toward the field.
Its teeth sink into the soil, turning over slumbering clods, gathering weeds and wheat stubble together.
— Liu Liangcheng,
A One-Man Village
Its teeth sink into the soil, turning over slumbering clods, gathering weeds and wheat stubble together.
— Liu Liangcheng,
A One-Man Village
Silhouette of a Man with a Rake - 1885
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/13790
https://botfrens.com/collections/46/contents/13790
December 10, 2025 at 4:47 AM
I hoist the rake onto my shoulder like a cumbersome weapon, and walk toward the field.
Its teeth sink into the soil, turning over slumbering clods, gathering weeds and wheat stubble together.
— Liu Liangcheng,
A One-Man Village
Its teeth sink into the soil, turning over slumbering clods, gathering weeds and wheat stubble together.
— Liu Liangcheng,
A One-Man Village