I estimate that there should be two or three red poppies floating on every wave. Without the laughter of the sea, when I fell for the first time, my heart was thrown out of the wound in my chest and rolled on my head and got wet. Now it is covered with wrinkles, sand and seaweed. Is this the fate of rotten pebbles? But whether I die or not, it's up to me. How could you bury me so carelessly, and the ship didn't sink after it was completely smashed? Every piece of wood it scatters will float on the sea forever. I was hurt like this. Everything I saw was my killer. I cursed all the faces with noses and all the pine trees without apples. Now, I'm lying on my back, and I can't see anything except the white sky. Let the killer run away. Just this thin cloud, this high trembling kite. Is its slender tether still tied around the neck of the sun? What am I hesitating about? I still miss the messenger of death-the waves tirelessly affect my arm. Without red poppies, how can I surf on high rocks without picking up my lost heart? I'm a liar with my eyes open. Bodies? I slowly closed my eyes and walked into a boundless orange fog. What should I say goodbye to if I know I can't live any longer? The sun is shining, the sea is blue and the beach is golden. I quickly closed my eyes, and even I had no pity. I was cheated because I like to betray me and live with my eyes wide open. I was blinded by the sword of the sun. If I hadn't closed my eyes, I'm afraid I couldn't see anything, not even the orange fog. Miss the lost memories and look forward to the cheers in the magma layer. I can tell which direction there is a flashing white coral wound, but it is like an angry eye, searching for the murderer without blinking, demanding punishment "revenge! Face the dagger and die! " The wound coughed a little hoarse, but I couldn't spit out anything desolate. There are echoes and orange fog in the empty grottoes. I am covered with scars, like a cracked land. When I was a child, I was lying on a boat in the lake at dusk, and the waves beat the boat and slept in the park. The wind blows me like a sexy kiss. I am embarrassed. As soon as I let go, the wooden paddle fell into the water, breaking the last sunset glow on the lake. So, I can't see anything except the stars. At dusk, the lights by the lake suddenly flashed together.
At that time, I was still young, and I didn't understand why such a big shiny wreath was suddenly worn on my bow. My shoulders and neck were dripping with cracked land ... When I was a child, the fragrant parasols in the swimming pool were dazzling white, the blue sky was transparent, and the blue swimsuit was opaque. At that time, I was still young, and I didn't understand why the swan landed with its wings hidden. When I was a child, in the theater lounge at night, my sleepy face leaned against the back of the leather sofa, which looked like my mother's arm. "How tall is Dad's green desk lamp!" I mumbled in my sleep, "lights out, mom, go on." You talked about Uncle onegin yesterday ... "When I was a child, I didn't understand why my father didn't turn off the radio so late. The sunny land, whether as a fatal wounded person or an evil revenger, should be judged by death. I shouldn't cheat in front of God, but how can I say goodbye to these miracles of life? I am reluctant to part with the last two swaying bells on the tree in autumn, and I am reluctant to part with the rainy night under the street lamp like a girl's watery eyes. The window dripping with rain is reluctant to bid farewell to the noisy evening breeze, and cigarette butts are thrown on poplar poles, the comet of Fei Huo. I hate to say goodbye to the orange fog and let my feet rot. Wherever you go, the starry sky over mud and glaciers is always charming and insignificant. I'm not afraid of this. Dig a hole, but on one condition, the price is that I can never open my eyes and let me see the orange fog forever. "It's very simple." The waves touched my arm tirelessly, and I closed my eyes forever like a wound, but the wound was as big as an eye and opened with pain.
2. What poems describe Baiyangdian? Baiyangdian Root 1 I was seriously injured. The mast was cut by thunder. I fell like a sailboat on the sunny beach. I come from a rough sea, but I am so dry that all my water-brain, bile and bone fluid-acts as blood, leaving nothing in the sea.
I estimate that there should be two or three red poppies floating on every wave. Without the laughter of the sea, when I fell for the first time, my heart was thrown out of the wound in my chest and rolled on my head and got wet. Now it is covered with wrinkles, sand and seaweed. Is this the fate of rotten pebbles? But whether I die or not, it's up to me. How could you bury me so carelessly, and the ship didn't sink after it was completely smashed? Every piece of wood it scatters will float on the sea forever. I was hurt like this. Everything I saw was my killer. I cursed all the faces with noses and all the pine trees without apples. Now, I'm lying on my back, and I can't see anything except the white sky. Let the killer run away. Just this thin cloud, this high trembling kite. Is its slender tether still tied around the neck of the sun? What am I hesitating about? I still miss the messenger of death-the waves tirelessly affect my arm. Without red poppies, how can I surf on high rocks without picking up my lost heart? I'm a liar with my eyes open. Bodies? I slowly closed my eyes and walked into a boundless orange fog. What should I say goodbye to if I know I can't live any longer? The sun is shining, the sea is blue and the beach is golden. I quickly closed my eyes, and even I had no pity. I was cheated because I like to betray me and live with my eyes wide open. I was blinded by the sword of the sun. If I hadn't closed my eyes, I'm afraid I couldn't see anything, not even the orange fog. Miss the lost memories and look forward to the cheers in the magma layer. I can tell which direction there is a flashing white coral wound, but it is like an angry eye, searching for the murderer without blinking, demanding punishment "revenge! Face the dagger and die! " The wound coughed a little hoarse, but I couldn't spit out anything desolate. The empty caves still have echoes and orange fog. I am covered with scars, like a cracked land. When I was a child, I was lying on a boat in the lake at dusk, and the waves beat the boat and slept in the park. The wind blows me like a sexy kiss. I am embarrassed. As soon as I let go, the wooden paddle fell into the water, breaking the last sunset glow on the lake. So, I can't see anything except the stars. At dusk, the lights by the lake suddenly flashed together.
At that time, I was still young, and I didn't understand why such a big shiny wreath was suddenly worn on my bow. My shoulders and neck were dripping with cracked land ... When I was a child, the fragrant parasols in the swimming pool were dazzling white, the blue sky was transparent, and the blue swimsuit was opaque. At that time, I was still young, and I didn't understand why the swan landed with its wings hidden. When I was a child, in the theater lounge at night, my sleepy face leaned against the back of the leather sofa, which looked like my mother's arm. "How tall is Dad's green desk lamp!" I mumbled in my sleep, "lights out, mom, go on." You talked about Uncle onegin yesterday ... "When I was a child, I didn't understand why my father didn't turn off the radio so late. The sunny land, whether as a fatal wounded person or an evil revenger, should be judged by death. I shouldn't cheat in front of God, but how can I say goodbye to these miracles of life? I am reluctant to part with the last two swaying bells on the tree in autumn, and I am reluctant to part with the rainy night under the street lamp like a girl's watery eyes. The window dripping with rain is reluctant to bid farewell to the noisy evening breeze, and cigarette butts are thrown on poplar poles, the comet of Fei Huo. I hate to say goodbye to the orange fog and let my feet rot. Wherever you go, the starry sky over mud and glaciers is always charming and insignificant. I'm not afraid of this. Dig a hole, but on one condition, the price is that I can never open my eyes and let me see the orange fog forever. "It's very simple." The waves touched my arm tirelessly, and I closed my eyes forever like a wound, but the wound was as big as an eye and opened with pain.
3. Good words and sentences praising Baiyangdian Baiyangdian: Looking back at the flowers on the fifth day of Baiyangdian, it is fragrant with bloom's dream. This is a sentence left by Lu Shanji, a poet in the Ming Dynasty, when he was enjoying lotus flowers in Baiyangdian Lake. It tastes very delicious. Seeing lotus flowers during the day is still unfinished, and the lotus dream is a model.
Different kinds of flowers confuse people's eyes, and the uncertain ingot period is supercilious.
Emperor Qianlong wrote a poem with emotion: "Wanliu Postscript Long Dike, the scenery of Kono is important. Who knows that today Zhao Bei is like Hangzhou West. "
There is also an ancient prose.
Renqiu's English, the spirit of Yanzhou. The car covers north and south, and things meet. Walking more than ten miles to Zhangzhou, there are natural wandering tributaries such as Baiyangdian and Fiona Fang, with excellent scenery and many tourists. On June 7, Geng Xu/KLOC-0, Yu and his friends came here, fascinated by the scenery here, looking for traces of the past, but they still didn't enjoy themselves, which deeply regretted. So I wrote this travel note out of ambition.
It was early in the morning by the lake, swaying under the sunrise, swaying reeds, dancing lotus in the wind, swaying gold, and still shadows. Suddenly, a wild duck started up, flew outside and became a little silent. The boat reached the depths of the lake, surrounded by reeds, with free water and a panoramic view of the crane pavilion. The speedboat flew by from time to time, and several wild owls were scared away. Suddenly, they heard several long sounds, but there was no sign of them. The boat tried its best to hold the Artemisia boat until it was flat, but it was still rippling. When two ships alternate, they answer each other and fly happily. In June, the lotus is gorgeous, graceful, dewy, delicate and green, and the cormorant comes out of the diving into the sky and blends in with the surrounding scenery, which is wonderful. As soon as the boat entered, we arrived at a small pool, where hills were conspicuous, but it was calm at first. There were twenty or thirty fishermen scattered around, overlooking the garden on the side, which was very enjoyable. At this time, Yu and his friends had a fight, so he abandoned the boat and went ashore, swimming in the pool, chasing and playing, but failed to win. There may be two or three people cooking a picnic on the shore, holding a fire and holding vegetables, that is, the fish is ready to eat, the lake is deep and fat, accompanied by wine, fish and wine, wild vegetables and game, and they blend with each other. I am deeply envious. For a long time, although the tour didn't end, I landed without waiting for people. Zhou Zi said to him, "Is this fun?" I smiled and replied, "It's a beautiful breeze, so why hurry?" You know what?
4. What poems describe "Baiyangdian"? Baiyangdian root 1. I was seriously injured. The mast was cut by thunder. I fell like a sailboat on the sunny beach. I come from a rough sea, but all my water-brain, bile and bone fluid-acts as blood, leaving nothing in the sea.
I estimate that there should be two or three red poppies floating on every wave. Without the laughter of the sea, when I fell for the first time, my heart was thrown out of the wound in my chest and rolled on my head and got wet. Now it is covered with wrinkles, sand and seaweed. Is this the fate of rotten pebbles? But whether I die or not, it's up to me. How could you bury me so carelessly, and the ship didn't sink after it was completely smashed? Every piece of wood it scatters will float on the sea forever. I was hurt like this. Everything I saw was my killer. I cursed all the faces with noses and all the pine trees without apples. Now, I'm lying on my back, and I can't see anything except the white sky. Let the killer run away. Just this thin cloud, this high trembling kite. Is its slender tether still tied around the neck of the sun? What am I hesitating about? I still miss the messenger of death-the waves tirelessly affect my arm. Without red poppies, how can I surf on high rocks without picking up my lost heart? I'm a liar with my eyes open. Bodies? I slowly closed my eyes and walked into a boundless orange fog. What should I say goodbye to if I know I can't live any longer? The sun is shining, the sea is blue and the beach is golden. I quickly closed my eyes, and even I had no pity. I was cheated because I like to betray me and live with my eyes wide open. I was blinded by the sword of the sun. If I hadn't closed my eyes, I'm afraid I couldn't see anything, not even the orange fog. Miss the lost memories and look forward to the cheers in the magma layer. I can tell which direction there is a flashing white coral wound, but it is like an angry eye, searching for the murderer without blinking, demanding punishment "revenge! Face the dagger and die! " The wound coughed a little hoarse, but I couldn't spit out anything desolate. There are echoes and orange fog in the empty grottoes. I'm covered with injuries, just like a cracked land. When I was young, at dusk, I was lying on a boat in the lake, and the waves beat the boat to sleep. The wind snoring in the park is like a sensual kiss, which makes me very embarrassed. As soon as I put down the wooden paddle, I fell into the water, breaking the last sunset glow on the lake. So, I can't see anything except the stars. At dusk, the lights by the lake suddenly flashed together.
At that time, I was still young, and I didn't understand why such a big shiny wreath was suddenly worn on my bow. My shoulders and neck were dripping with cracked land ... When I was a child, the fragrant parasols in the swimming pool were dazzling white, the blue sky was transparent, and the blue swimsuit was opaque. At that time, I was still young, and I didn't understand why the swan landed with its wings hidden. When I was a child, in the theater lounge at night, my sleepy face leaned against the back of the leather sofa, which looked like my mother's arm. "How tall is Dad's green desk lamp!" I mumbled in my sleep, "lights out, mom, go on." You talked about Uncle onegin yesterday ... "When I was a child, I didn't understand why my father didn't turn off the radio so late. The sunny land, whether as a fatal wounded person or an evil revenger, should be judged by death. I shouldn't cheat in front of God, but how can I say goodbye to these miracles of life? I am reluctant to part with the last two swaying bells on the tree in autumn, and I am reluctant to part with the rainy night under the street lamp like a girl's watery eyes. The window dripping with rain is reluctant to bid farewell to the noisy evening breeze, and cigarette butts are thrown on poplar poles, the comet of Fei Huo. I hate to say goodbye to the orange fog and let my feet rot. Wherever you go, the starry sky over mud and glaciers is always charming and insignificant. I'm not afraid of this. Dig a hole, but on one condition, the price is that I can never open my eyes and let me see the orange fog forever. "It's very simple." The waves touched my arm tirelessly, and I closed my eyes forever like a wound, but the wound was as big as an eye and opened with pain.
5. Like "Baiyangdian" 1. On the ground, layers of yellow reed leaves have been weathered by wind, frost, rain and snow and turned into soil, providing nutrients for asparagus roots underground. Next spring, another new reed will break through the ground.
2. Take them to distant places ... With such a gentle stroke, the reed flowers began to tremble. Inadvertently, the flowers scattered, dancing their own melody under the fiery red background, and so they floated all over the floor.
They fly like light snow in winter, but they are more elegant than snow. They are flying like mini umbrellas, but they are cuter than umbrellas.
They fly like fallen leaves in autumn, but they are lighter than fallen leaves. Floating leisurely and freely, they will become companions and friends as the wind drifts into the stream.
Floating into the sky will be the only white cloud. Floating back to the reeds will be decorated with white snow.
3. The scenery there is beautiful, towering trees are neatly arranged on the shore, the lotus flowers in the pool show lovely smiling faces, and the reeds sway in the wind, which is a good place to make people feel relaxed and happy. 4. Some reeds and reeds near the lake are half green and half yellow. They are wild and seem to be quiet and peaceful places. They are different from the hustle and bustle of the city center and can't help but stop.
5. In the scenic area, there are vast reeds, vertical and horizontal water lanes, natural wild interests and unique customs. 6. The stamens of reeds are ripe, other leaves turn yellow, petals wither and dandelions bloom, all of which are flying in the sky of Xue Hai like beautiful butterflies.
That scene, how charming and fascinating ... 7. In my childhood hometown, there were many unpretentious and green reeds, which left me with sweet memories. Every year, when the spring breeze just blows away the snowflakes, reeds can't wait to stick their sharp heads out of the soil.
9. Reed is a plant that grows near the water. Reed stems are thin and tall, with white flowers like cotton, which grow in pieces in the water. Many small animals living in water make their homes in reeds. 10, the bitter and cold sound of chaff and the sound of smashing clothes make the waterfront covered with reeds even colder.
1 1. At night, the enemy stared at the dark big reed pond from the small window of the turret, and the stars in the sky seemed to be immersed in water and would fall down. Late at night, waterfowl fly and sing in the reed pond. During the day, they hide in their nests to avoid gunfire.
The reed is still trying so hard to drill up, and the goal seems to be the sky. Phragmites communis, paragraph: 12, where a fresh reed flower, an unfolding purple velvet, floats in the wind.
17, the moon has set, and there is some rustling wind in Tang Wei after midnight. 17, every evening, the songs in the reed pond are still so loud, unlike those sung by hungry people; The reed pond also smells of rice and fat fish.
17. My hometown is near the Grand Canal and luoma lake. The beaches there are vast, and reeds grow tenaciously on those fertile beaches and riverbeds. Their amazing vitality comes from reed roots and is deeply rooted. When the reed flowers wither and the reeds wither, the reed roots that suck the milk of the water town are already gestating new life.
16, on the river bank, some reeds are sparse and some are dense, and the dense reeds are dancing, graceful and graceful. I broke off a reed covered with reed heads and waved it. Under the wind, reeds hover overhead like scattered flowers. We are blowing reeds and jumping on the newly turned land. 17. In hot summer, tall reeds grow on the land, and a group of birds will inhabit this place where birds are singing and flowers are fragrant. This is their paradise. In early autumn, the whole spring is golden, and the golden reeds set off the blue sky and white clouds, just like a beautiful landscape painting.
I don't like reeds very much. Its appearance is not beautiful, it is not as graceful as wintersweet branches, it is not as graceful as lotus flowers, it is not as bright as roses, not only its branches and leaves are not beautiful, reeds are not as beautiful as peony flowers, and there are no delicious fruits like peanuts.
19, that reed not only provides the background, but also expresses feelings. The ups and downs of reeds are actually inner agitation. The green leaves are smooth enough to be comforted by the palm of your hand, but they will not change their original shape.
A small reed actually bears all the loads that the world can give it. 20. In early autumn, the reeds by the pond have grown tall.
In the early morning, a red sun rises from Ran Ran in the east through reeds, and the water vapor rises and fills the air over the whole pond. Not far away, there is an unknown tree with stretched branches and upright trunk. Surrounded by this fog, it looks like a fairyland in the sky. 2 1. On the ground, layers of yellow reed leaves have been weathered by wind, frost, rain and snow and turned into soil, providing nutrients for asparagus roots underground. Next spring, another new reed will break through the ground.
22. Take them to distant places ... With such a gentle stroke, the reed flowers began to tremble. Inadvertently, the flowers scattered, dancing their own melody under the fiery red background, and so they floated all over the floor.
They fly like light snow in winter, but they are more elegant than snow. They are flying like mini umbrellas, but they are cuter than umbrellas.
They fly like fallen leaves in autumn, but they are lighter than fallen leaves. Floating leisurely and freely, they will become companions and friends as the wind drifts into the stream.
Floating into the sky will be the only white cloud.
6. Baiyangdian Lotus Poetry: Baiyangdian Autumn Rain Fishing Song
The sky drops jumping notes,
Bright pearls rolling on the lotus leaf.
Quiet the birds competing to sing among the reeds,
A tidal frog drum was splashed in the rice field.
Red, late-blooming lotus;
Yellow and golden rice;
Green, willow trees on the shore;
Laughed, fisherman who closed the net.
The ship walked in the smoke,
Song-fly out of the fog.
In the clouds, in the fog,
Fishing boats were hidden when they were young.
Old fisherman, cuckold, green hemp fiber,
His face was slightly drunk and he shook his paddle happily;
Sister Yu, red cloak, white sandals,
Close to the net bow, the song breaks through the clouds and fog.
Transparent wind weaves illusory curtains,
In the mist, the trees near the distant village darkened;
Sweet songs float in the clear water,
Among the reeds, a flock of egrets flew in surprise.
Okay, you colored notes,
What music is playing?
It is a symphonic poem praising life.
Is beating gongs and drums to celebrate the harvest. ...
7. Baiyangdian lotus poem: Baiyangdian autumn rain fishing song; Jumping notes are scattered in the sky, and bright pearls are rolling on the lotus leaf.
Let the birds sing in the competition among reeds, and let the frogs play drums in the rice fields. Red, late-blooming lotus; Yellow and golden rice; Green, willow trees on the shore; Laughed, fisherman who closed the net.
The boat-through the smoke, singing-out of the fog. In the clouds and fog, fishing boats appear and disappear when they are young.
Old fisherman, green hat, green hemp fiber, slightly drunk, happily sculling; Sister Yu, red cloak, white sandals, net bow, ditty through clouds and fog. Transparent wind weaves illusory curtains, blackening distant villages and trees. Sweet songs are floating in the clear water, and a group of egrets are flying among the reeds.
Ok, you colorful notes, what music are you playing? It is a symphony poem praising life, and it is a gong and drum celebrating the harvest.