The leaves turned yellow and were ruthlessly blown away by the rustling autumn wind Zhang Ji, a poet living in Luoyang, witnessed this bleak scene and couldn't help thinking of his hometown.
He wants to write a letter to his family. When I was ready to put pen to paper, my heart was full of sadness. Far from home, how much I want to say and write! How much does he want to talk about living alone for a long time? Take this opportunity to write everything he wants to say! The poet thought and thought, and finally set out to write a book, telling the story of his leaving his family and his heart. The letter was finally written, but the poet's mood could not be calm for a long time. He carefully wrapped the envelope and told the messenger to give it to his family intact. But when the messenger was about to leave, the poet opened the envelope again and read it carefully for fear of missing a word.
The messenger finally hit the road, and Zhang Ji watched him until he disappeared into the sky. Later, Zhang Ji wrote this famous poem "Qiu Si", which has been passed down through the ages.
Melancholy Qiu Si
Author: Zhang Ji (Tang Dynasty)
The annual autumn wind blows to Luoyang city, and my wandering son doesn't know how his relatives in his hometown are; Writing a letter to peace has too much to say and I don't know where to start.
When the letter is written, I am worried that I have not finished what I want to say; When the messenger started, he opened the envelope and gave it to him.
A short story composed of ancient poems;
the song of the homeless
Tang Mengjiao
The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son.
Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.
Grass can't repay the kindness of warm sun.
There is a biting cold wind outside. In a shabby hut, an old man in his sixties is sitting on the kang to prepare a long trip for his son. The loving mother sat in the dim light, sewing clothes for her son Meng Jiao. Holding the needle in her left hand and the thread in her right hand, she slowly passed through the eye of the needle, tied a knot and sewed it carefully. This needle and thread contains the mother's concern and worry about her son. She is worried that her son won't be home for a long time. My family is too poor to buy silks and satins for my son, only coarse clothes and linen. "son! You should be careful everywhere outside, get along well with others, and often write home to reassure your mother! " Say that finish, choked up, at this point, tears involuntarily fell down. Meng Jiao put down the book, looked at his loving mother and nodded deeply. At this time, he was full of thoughts and even decided to stay at home with his mother, but he couldn't let her down. In order to repay her, he had to make a name for himself. He remembered the difficulty of going to school as a child and his mother's hard work. When I was a child, Meng Jiao's family was very poor and had no money to send him to school. He also knows that it is not easy to understand his mother. Much as he wants to go, he doesn't want to burden his mother. The cautious mother finally realized that in order to let her son go to school early, she worked hard to weave and work hard every day. Finally, the mother gave some money to her son. The son was shocked, and the mother only said, "Take it!" "Meng Jiao knew that money didn't come easily, so he studied hard ... Now, he can go abroad to study. No one can understand the excitement in his heart and his concern for his mother. Tomorrow, he will leave, leave his loving mother, leave this shabby hut, and leave his hometown where he was born and raised. He can't say what he doesn't want. He can't do anything for his mother. He can only say that he will miss it forever and study hard outside. He can't help singing a poem in his heart: the thread in the hand of a kind-hearted mother makes clothes for her wayward boy's body. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring? Outside, the biting wind is still blowing, but this small room is full of warm spring.
Make up a 250-word short story with an ancient poem. As night falls, the endless grassland will make layers of "waves" under the breeze. Suddenly, there were several melodious flutes in the distance, followed by silence. The flute is getting clearer and clearer. At the end of the field of vision, a low figure appeared. It's a little shepherd boy playing the flute. The little shepherd boy came slowly, and the beautiful flute was blown off and on by the evening breeze.
Mother has been waiting for him at the entrance to the village. Although the family is poor in food, the little shepherd boy eats very sweetly. Mother looked at him and smiled.
The sun went down and a bright moon rose into the sky. The little shepherd boy can't stand his playful character. He didn't take off the hemp fiber, but lay on the haystack, playing one tune after another until the full moon, thinking about the story of the jade rabbit smashing medicine. He closed his eyes and fell asleep in the silver moonlight.
Make up a short story with the ancient poems you see. As night falls, the endless grassland is blowing layers of "waves" in the evening breeze. Suddenly, there were several melodious flutes in the distance, followed by silence. The flute is getting clearer and clearer, at the end of the field of vision.
Make up a story with an ancient poem and return to China.
He, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, left his hometown in his early years and went to the world. After decades of hard work, he became a famous poet in the Tang Dynasty. At the age of 80, he returned to his hometown after many years with infinite longing for his hometown. Autumn dusk, leaves all over the ground, in the gentle autumn wind, full of white hair, but the local accent has not changed, why walk on the country road? More than 60 years have passed, and the saplings I planted in those years should have grown into big trees by now; I haven't seen my childhood friends for years. I wonder how old they are. After arriving in the West Village, He Zhangzhi saw several children playing under a big tree. Seeing an old man coming, everyone was curious and even went up to him and asked with a smile, "Grandpa, whose house are you going to see?" He smiled and said, "Son, I'm from West Village, but I left here decades ago." The children opened their eyes in surprise, and one of them looked dignified and strong and said, "No wonder we don't know you!" " "Made the children laugh. A child naively asked ...
How to make up a short story with ancient poems? I suddenly feel uncomfortable near evening. Hey, go for a walk, get on the carriage and come to Leyuan Scenic Area. Standing at such a high place, I saw the red sun covered with gorgeous sunset clouds, which can only be described as infinite beauty. The sunset is so beautiful, but it is already dusk, and this gorgeous beauty will be fleeting. ....
Make up a short story of 300~500 words with the ancient poem "Jinse"? Li Shangyin (about 8 12 or 813-about 858) is a famous poet in the late Tang Dynasty, and he is known as the master of the seven laws. The word Yishan was born in western Henan, Fan Nansheng, a native of Xingyang, Henan, and his ancestral home was in Hanoi, Huaizhou (now Qinyang, Henan). His poems are of great literary value. Wen, which is called "Xiao" together with Du Mu, is called "Wen Li", which is similar to Duan Hewen in the same period and ranks in 16 in the family, so it is also called "Thirty-six Style". There are 300 Tang poems, including 22 poems by Li Shangyin, ranking fourth. His poems are novel in conception and beautiful in style, especially some love poems are lingering and memorable. But it is too obscure to be solved. There is a saying that "poets love Quincy, but only hate that no one writes about Jian Zheng". Caught in the struggle between Niu and Li, I was frustrated all my life. After his death, he was buried in his hometown Xingyang. My personal experience has made me a scholar. I have been a county commander, secretary of Lang and a judge in Dongchuan Province. Influenced by the struggle between Niu and Li, he was marginalized and impoverished all his life. His poems exposed and criticized the separatist regime of the buffer region, the rampant eunuchs and the corruption of the upper ruling group at that time. The western suburbs are famous for their hundred rhymes, two feelings and heavy feelings. Most of his poems are epic poems, represented by Jia Sheng, Sui Palace and Fu Hou. Untitled poems also have their own meanings, and different schools have different interpretations. He is good at discipline, rich in literary talent, rigorous in conception, graceful in emotion and unique in style. But there are too many useful classics and their meanings are obscure. I also work four or six articles. Li Yishan's poems have been lost, and later generations compiled Fan Nan Wen Ji and Fan Nan Wen Ji Supplement. Li Shangyin's life experience can be roughly divided into three stages. The first stage, two years ago, was his adolescence. /kloc-when he was 0/6 years old, he wrote "On Talent" and "On Sacredness", which were well known by ancient China literati. In the third year of Emperor Wenzong Daiwa, Tian Pingjun invited Ling Huchu to enter the curtain. In the sixth year of Daiwa, Linghu Chu was transferred to Hedong and stayed in the north. Li Shangyin followed him to Taiyuan. Cui Rong stayed in the shogunate after a short observation in Yanhai. In the second year, I entered the Jinshi. There are not many poems left at this stage, but it has formed an important beginning. Some of these poems directly reflect social politics, such as Sui Shidong, Two Poems of Sentiment, Heavy Sentiment, Life in An Gongzhu and Hundred Rhymes in the Western Suburb, etc., which refer to touching things and show young poets' ambition and consciousness of caring about the fate of the country. Other works, such as Eating Bamboo Shoots First in the Seats, Untitled, Stealing a Mirror at the Age of Eight, express the author's lofty aspirations and desire to use the world by contrast, with full brushwork and fresh style. In addition, there are some social poems and colorful poems. The second stage, from three years to six years of prosperity, is the middle-aged period when Li Shangyin embarked on his official career and began to set foot in party struggles. The bumpy life course at this stage promoted the poet's creation to develop in depth. The theme is wider than the previous issue, including feeling time, expressing feelings, expressing feelings, giving answers, traveling, pastoral, chanting history and chanting things. The feelings in the poems are more depressed, the expression techniques are more graceful and restrained, and the art has reached a mature level, such as Ding An Tieta, Zhong Hui's two peony poems raining, and Ren Hongnong and Wei Qi's vacation back to Beijing. On the other hand, negative and decadent thoughts and gorgeous poems have also developed, such as Threshold in the Mirror, Quchi, Banquet in the County, Drunk under Flowers and so on. The third stage, after the first year of Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty (847), was the later period of Li Shangyin's exile in the world. After Xuanzong ascended the throne, the Li Deyu Party, which gained power in Huichang years, was exiled, and the poet was further suppressed by political measures against Wuzong Dynasty. He had no choice but to settle down in a distant shogunate in Beijing. In the twelfth year of Dazhong, he resigned and returned to Zhengzhou to live in seclusion. He died around the end of this year. Wandering career makes the poet's poetic style change more diversified in his later period, and his poetic realm matures day by day. The poems written are more thought-provoking and lamentable.
A short story made up of ancient poems (on foot) The poet traveled in a late autumn afternoon and came to the front of a wooded mountain. A stone road winds up, as if drawing a white line in the yellow-green vegetation. At the top of the white line is a white cloud winding around the top of the mountain, and some houses are faintly visible under the white cloud. There must be a world-class expert living there! The poet wanted to visit them very much, but he was suddenly attracted by the scenery in front of him: at sunset, the frost-sealed maple forest was in full swing, and every leaf was like a burning flame, redder than the spring flowers in February. He stopped the car and was quietly moved by this spectacular natural life. He couldn't help exclaiming that "frost leaves are redder than February flowers"! This is not only the association of beauty, the contrast of color, but also the praise of life. On the bleak background of the cold mountain, the maple leaf that won the spring flowers in February is full of exuberant vitality and infinite vitality, and full of the poet's love for nature and life.
A short story composed of an ancient poem, more than 500 words. Hello, my friend, this ancient poem is adapted, with 459 words. I hope I can satisfy you. Zhang Ji was born in poverty. When I was a child, my family was poor and far from my hometown. By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I had already experienced a wandering life. Running around all the year round, wandering in a foreign land. On a silent night, Zhang Ji finished his dinner and sat in the small yard enjoying the bright moonlight. A full moon hangs high in the sky, adding infinite vitality to the hidden earth. He was watching when suddenly an autumn wind blew and Zhang Ji was shivering with cold. He had to go back to his room and find an old cotton-padded jacket sewn by his mother from the closet when he left. He looked at the cotton-padded jacket and remembered his elderly mother, so he picked up a brush and wrote on the paper: How are you, mother? It's getting cold, so you should put on more clothes to avoid catching cold. Please don't worry about me, I'm fine. How is the family harvest this year? ..... seems to have a lot to say, but I don't know where to start. The next day, as soon as the sun climbed the hillside, Zhang Ji handed the letter to Wang San. When Wang San was about to say goodbye to him, Zhang Ji took the letter back, opened it and checked it again and again. He added: you should live a happy life every day, don't be unhappy for a little thing ... After writing these, Zhang Ji gave the letter to Wang San, and Wang San rode away. Zhang Ji looked at Wang San, who was far away, and he was both happy and sad. Happily, my mother can read her letter; Sadly, I don't know when I can return to my hometown.
Choose a poem and compile a short story Meng Haoran in Tang Dynasty.
Sleeping sickness in spring unconsciously broke the morning, and the chirping of birds disturbed my sleep.
How many flowers fall after a stormy night.
When I wake up in the spring morning, birds are singing everywhere. So beautiful and wonderful. Alas, it rained all night last night, and I don't know how many flowers fell in the storm.