Moonlight is like strings. But the string sound is full of that persistence and persistence; Chord sounds are quiet and harmonious shadows, silent history and memory. What I saw was a mysterious, bright, indifferent and charming clear moon thousands of years ago.
Moonlight is like strings. In the moonlight, it was just me and the moon.
Looking up at the night sky, it is deep, ancient and deep, just like the bright moon in the sky.
So, in the moonlight, I saw the moon shadow thousands of years ago, which was clear and peaceful.
Under the moon, Li Bai has the disdain and ambition of "until, raise my cup, I ask the bright moon to bring me my shadow and make us three"; Su Shi has a sober and open-minded attitude of "people have joys and sorrows, and the moon is full of rain and shine", and has a gentle and considerate attitude of "I hope people will live for a long time, and thousands of miles are beautiful"-he sends his feelings to the bright moon and mountains, and his heart is full of loneliness and thoughts. In the moonlight, there is also Jia Yi's feelings of serving the country and benefiting the people, which is "poor at midnight and empty in the front seat, without asking ordinary people to ask ghosts and gods". Under the moon, there is no shortage of Wang Anshi's "lack of the moon, faint leakage, Yi Deng shines on the autumn bed".
Under the moon, I see a world that belongs only to poets.
The moon is the moon in the poet's world, and the moon belongs to the poet only.
The moon in the poet's world is always full of that kind of indifferent tranquility, and the poet's world is full of harmony and tranquility.
In the moonlight, I walked into the world of a poet.
"The world is cloudy and I am alone" is Qu Yuan's arrogance and unyielding; Picking chrysanthemums under the hedge is Tao Yuanming's leisure and indifference; "Going out laughing" is Li Bai's great ambition.
Once at an estuary, the emperor asked a monk: How many boats are there in the river?
His monk said, "two: one is called Ming and the other is called Li."
However, there is no trace of fame and fortune in the poet's world. In the poet's mind, there is always a kind of pride that goes deep into the bone marrow: a kind of elegance that sees through the secular world, a magnificent spirit that "I was born to be useful", a sense of responsibility that "I can bow like a full moon", a feeling of patriotism and love for the people, and a tender feeling that "people are thinner than yellow flowers when rolling a curtain in the west wind".
The poet's world is full of peace.
June was thousands of years ago.
Just lack of peace and harmony.
A month is a full moon.
The river flows forever into the distance. I hope we can follow the river and walk into the world of poets thousands of years ago-looking for that peace!
The composition of the world of poetry 2 The Tang Dynasty shines brightly in the long river of history, just like a shining star in the dark night sky. The Tang Dynasty is a prosperous and unique era, and the Tang poetry will always be circulated in people's hearts.
Every time I see the full moon in the sky, it is embedded in the blue-black night curtain, with a pale yellow light. "Emei Mountain is half moon and half autumn" comes to my mind. "The bright moon in the Qin Dynasty is long in the Han Dynasty, and the Long March has not returned." It took me to the frontier wrapped by the bleak cold wind, as well as "the autumn wind is clear, the autumn moon is bright" and "the moon is full at sea now, and it is the end of the world." I keep telling my sadness through the bright moon. ...
Outside the window, glittering and translucent raindrops fall from the horizon, beating and patting the glass. "Pat, knock," listening to the whispers of raindrops reminds me of "sneaking into the night with the wind, moistening things silently." When the continuous drizzle enveloped the street in gray gauze, it seemed that Du Mu was singing softly, "It rained in succession during the Qingming Festival, and pedestrians on the road wanted to break their souls." It is also a leisurely experience of "one or two chickens crow in the rain, and the bridge in Zhuxi Village is inclined". When the sound of rain sprinkled the cold on the earth, the sadness of "going to Wu on a cold rainy night and seeing Fujian off alone in the mountains" was helplessly displayed before my eyes. ...
When the bleak wind rolls the fallen leaves and the figure of early autumn is displayed under the withered flowers, you will think of "seeing the autumn wind in Luoyang City, you want a writer to write a book", and you will also think of the young Zhang Ji humming "Frosty Night, Jiang Feng Fishing and Sleeping" on a boat outside Hanshan Temple. At the same time, we can see that Du Fu sighed, "I have come three thousand miles. With the sadness of autumn, with my sadness of a hundred years, I climbed this height alone "with sadness and desolation." This cold and bleak season is full of sadness and parting. In this season, countless poets have left footprints, and countless people have passed by in tears, telling their sadness to the earth through poetry.
When standing on the top of the mountain, through the interval of green leaves, looking at the city bathed in sunshine under the blue sky, looking at the photos of tall buildings, staring at the tiny figures moving in the street. I can think of Du Fu's "I will be at the pole, and all other mountains will look short under the sky." And I can also understand it as "I don't know the true face of Lushan Mountain, but toward which corner of the mountain". When I looked at the shadow of the castle peak standing on the earth from a distance, I seemed to hear Li Bai singing "The bright moon rises from the mountains in the sky, in the infinite haze of the sea of clouds". How many poets lamented the majestic mountains.
After a long period of time, Tang poetry was handed down from generation to generation. It records the face of history, the joys and sorrows of poets and the splendid culture of the Chinese nation.
During the harvest season, some voles collect rice and some vegetables, while Frederick concentrates on collecting sunshine, colors and stories. Some voles laughed at its work. When winter came, it was what Frederick did that made everyone feel warm and full of energy. However, such a happy and poetic fairy tale also reflects the severe social reality. More and more people forget their own lives and fall into endless work and interest disputes.
Wang Xiaobo once wrote in his book: It is not enough for a person to have this life, he also needs a poetic world. Like a vole collecting sunlight, colors and stories, what it did at first was not optimistic. But in the dark cave, what he did brought sunshine and warmth to others and a poetic world to others. What he brings to others is spiritual enjoyment, not material abundance. The poetic world he created enriched the hearts and sublimated the souls of others.
On the other hand, in our present society, how many people live like those voles who laugh at Frederick? In the era of rapid development and fast-paced life, more and more people pursue "higher, faster and stronger" and endless material money. They plunged into the pursuit of material flow and forgot the subtle beauty under this sky. They pay too much attention to the material things in life and ignore the spirit that is more valuable than material things.
How interesting will it be for a person with an empty heart to live, even if he is rich? How does he know the melancholy of "old cigarettes make people sad", how does he know the sadness of "being drunk and not remembering", and how does he know that "the moon is missing and old?" How can it give birth to the feeling that "life is like a trip, and I am also a pedestrian"? How tasteless such a person lives, and his world is no longer full because of spiritual emptiness.
We all need a poetic world, which doesn't mean you have to give up your job to pursue a romantic life, but this poetic world can enrich your soul, let go of your troubles and fatigue, and let you have a more comprehensive understanding and thinking about life and the world. The poetic world only needs you to let go of your tense nerves, read some meaningful books, and explore the things around you carefully with your eyes that discover beauty, and you will find many subtle and beautiful touches that you have neglected.
We spread our wings and fly in this poetic world, keeping the infinite clear sky and stars in our hearts.
The world of poetry consists of four poems of Tang Dynasty and Song Dynasty, and two dreamlike colorful exercises. In the long history of China for thousands of years, the most beautiful colorful flowers have been sprinkled, becoming the two most gorgeous rainbows in the historical sky of China.
Wandering in a hole in the long river, the appearance of Song ci is like a sudden glance, a glimpse like a glimpse; The Tang poetry is magnificent, magnificent, like a picture full of eyes, and my heart is unconsciously moved by it.
In the dead of night, I like reading Tang poems while drinking tea, and occasionally I can make up a few arty poems. Reciting Tang Poetry carefully feels like communicating with the ancients thousands of years ago.
"My friend's prince, what does it matter if spring is over and you are still here?"
The handsome Wang Moshu yearns for pastoral life most in his life. He likes "moonlight in the pine forest and crystal stone in the stream". Su Shi once praised him: "There are paintings in poetry, poems in view and poems in painting." Indeed, if you carefully taste Autumn in Xianju, you can feel a charming scenery in the mountains after autumn rain.
"The yellow sand wears golden armor in hundreds of battles, and the loulan is not returned."
What kind of lofty sentiments and ambitions did the poet Wang Changling write about King Jiangning? "There are dark snow-capped mountains in Qinghai, and the lonely city looks at Yumenguan", which is characterized by long time of guarding the border, frequent wars, hard battles and desolate borders. How lonely and hard this life is, but the soldiers resolutely made a great ambition of "never breaking Loulan and never returning it" and vowed to defend the country and kill the enemy to the end. Can't help but admire.
"A moment that should last forever has come and gone before I realize it."
A thousand years ago, sadness flowed through paper. How much emotion did it take to write a "Jinse"? Liu Sanbian's passion, Su Dongpo's devotion and Yuan Zhen's infatuation, but the affectionate people are only righteous and profound. Affection doesn't hurt parting, it only hurts Li Shangyin. Affection is the characteristic of Yishan's poetry. He used "when * * * cut candles at the west window, but talked about the rain at night" to pin his thoughts on his dead wife. He sang gloomily, "Although my body doesn't have bright phoenix wings, I feel the harmonious heartbeat of the sacred unicorn." Life is like a dream. Through the yellowed pages, it seems that Li Shangyin, who was lonely thousands of years ago, sat by the window and whispered, "It's no use talking directly, but it can soothe my heart! ."
Life is very, very life, three points become firm but gentle, seven points become moonlight, and it is too white to show your mouth and spit, and it is half prosperous in Tang Dynasty.
Every Tang poem is full of the poet's true feelings between the lines. The scholarly atmosphere that comes out of words is exciting, and the beauty that comes out of words will never disappear.
In the Tang Dynasty, a poetic dynasty and a poetic world were buried with complex feelings of leisure, sadness and desolation.
Some people say that in terms of talent, every child is a poet. And I want to say that there are poems everywhere in life. -inscription
I remember when I was a child, I was a sick child. I can't play around like other children, so I read at home all day. Later, when I grew up, I became interested in poetry and captured the light and shadow of poetry in my life.
In spring, the most vivid memory is light rain. Bright white lines, such as ox hair, thin thread and flower needle, are called "spring rain is as expensive as oil" by farmers. Yes, this is a vibrant time of year, so I can't help thinking of Lao Du's poem "Spring leeks are cut in the rain at night", which makes people feel very clear.
In the summer like a melting pot, cicadas sing frogs and drums, the cool breeze blowing in the evening sweeps away the sultry daytime, and a few sparse stars dot the dark blue and quiet sky. At this time, I can't help but whisper Xin Qiji's poem "The bright moon surprises the magpie, and the breeze knows at midnight." Seven or eight stars are in the horizon, and two or three points of rain are in front of the mountain. "In my heart, I can't help feeling that poetry is in harmony with nature and life.
Autumn wind strikes, impatient leaves are covered with warm colors, and sunlight casts mottled light and shadow through the cracks in the trees. The maple leaves full of trees are soaked with autumn frost and shine brightly, and the eyes enjoy the ultimate beauty of "parking in the maple forest late, the frost leaves are redder than February flowers".
In the cold winter, goose feather-like snowflakes suddenly fall on a full moon night. "If catkins are not due to the wind." When I got up early in the morning, I opened the door and my eyes suddenly lit up. Snow can be seen everywhere on the eaves and in the yard. Smelling its breath, my nose is numb, and the exhaled air turns into white air, which dissipates with the wind. The branches of Sophora japonica are like dust covered with worn cotton-padded jackets. At this time, due to the arrival of snow, they have been wrapped in silver. The melted part has been frozen into ice crystals, like powder makeup jade, which is very beautiful. As Cen Can said, "It's like a strong wind in spring, which blows at night and blows open the petals of 10,000 pear trees".
There are poems everywhere in life, and there are poems everywhere. When I am frustrated, Li Bai's "One day, I will ride the wind and waves, and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea" will accompany me forward; When there is nothing to sit on, savor the leisure of Zhao Shixiu's "dating less than midnight, knocking chess pieces and throwing snuff"; Reading by candlelight at night, I feel Xin Qiji's unrequited love mood of "watching swords while dreaming of camping".
Li Shimin once said: "Take history as a mirror, you can correct yourself". I want to say: "Take poetry as a mirror, you can correct yourself". There are poems everywhere in life, and there are poems everywhere. As long as you are willing to find it, then a beautiful picture will be displayed in front of your eyes.
The world of poetry consists of 6 sunsets, such as blood, glowing with red light. Catkin as white as snow floated in, and each piece was red. As the sun sets, a shadow forms on the river, and the river beyond the shadow is dyed red by the sunset glow. Willow branches are slender, and warblers weave.
What a wonderful world!
Open a poem, a better world than reality, coming to me from the pages, let me indulge in it.
At this moment, I can't indulge in the beautiful and magnificent landscape of poetry. I gradually lose myself, but the blood red of the sunset is getting worse. ...
Indulging in the world of poetry, I forgot what tonight was, myself and my past lives. ...
In a trance, I walked into the page, riding a green donkey and walking on the road. The red light of the sunset shone on the ground through the treetops. I wanted to ask someone for directions, but I saw a disheveled child learning to fish. I pushed through the grass and went to him to ask for directions, but he shook his head gently, probably for fear that I would disturb the fish he hooked.
I just walked aimlessly. A gust of wind blew, and I smelled the fragrance of peach blossoms and the unique wet smell of the pool. I saw two people sitting on the boat. One was wearing a blue shirt and a black scarf. The boat is sparkling, sparkling. There was a man standing on the shore, dressed as a farmer, and reluctantly waved to the people on board. Suddenly, he began to beat the time and sing a desolate farewell song. Everyone on board stood up and chanted word for word: "Peach Blossom Lake is deeper than thousands of feet, but not as good as Wang Lun."
I walked on, and before I knew it, dark clouds were gathering. I saw a battlefield in the distance, and a ray of sunshine fell on the armor of the soldiers from the cracks in the clouds, emitting golden light of burning purpose, making the dull picture jump out of a "bright spot" and revealing a trace of tragic spirit. The bleak horn echoed in the cold autumn wind, and the twilight was boundless, and the battlefield was dyed black and purple by the blood of the dead. The surviving soldiers shouted: "Report your wish on the golden platform and take Yulong to die for you!" "
I avoided the battlefield and walked forward to a small village, where I drank alone to drown my sorrows. I didn't expect to be worried, but I was even more worried. A few years later, it was still a small village, and I couldn't sleep alone. He turned on the light. He was drunk and looked at his sword again. I also saw a child's finger pointing in the direction of Xinghua Village in the rain, and that finger pointed to the Millennium. ...
The world goes round and round, spring grows and winter grows, flowers bloom and fall, grass grows and warblers fly, and everything goes round and round. Only poetry will bloom its glory in the cycle, and I hope someone can read it in a thousand years.
I got a tingle and came to my senses, only to find that the blood-like sunset had set.
The world of poetry and composition 7 sat quietly on the bed, holding a book and stained with a trace of ink. Flowers fell on the window, birds landed beside me, climbed on my knees and saw groups of poems.
Read the tranquility of the moonlight, read the screams of war horses, walk between the lines, and pick up the joys and sorrows of the world.
I sat on a fishing boat and saw a vast white world. There are mountains ahead, but there are no birds. It is as beautiful as a fairyland, but it is uninhabited. In the vast river, only this boat is floating aimlessly. An old man, dressed in hemp fiber, sat cross-legged at the bow, holding a fishing rod in his hand, closing his weather-beaten eyes, straightened his back and did not yield to nature, leaving a vicissitudes of life. He didn't catch fish, but fate.
I am standing upstairs, and the blue mountains are rolling, just like a dragon whistling in the sky, and a round sun slowly sets on the green hills. The Yellow River at the foot of the mountain flows into the sea like a million Ma Benteng. If you want to see more scenery, you must walk up a flight of stairs.
It is another kind of scenery to read "It rains in succession during the Qingming Festival". During the Qingming Festival, the drizzle fell on the ground in succession, weaving the sadness of missing the old friend in the hearts of tourists. Heart like rain, moving like an abacus. At this time, a shepherd boy rode a yellow cow slowly in the rain. The shepherd boy is very handsome, just like the one in the painting. I hurried forward and asked where the shepherd boy restaurant was. The shepherd boy pointed to the distance and I followed his hand. In the rain and fog, an apricot yellow flag is clearly visible in the wind, embroidered with the words "Xinghua Village".
There is a story behind every poem. Only when you are completely immersed in this world can you feel the poet's mood at that time.
With Li Bai, "Laugh at the sky and go out. Are we Artemisia people? " With Du Fu, "I woke up easily in this spring morning, and birds were singing everywhere." In June, the West Lake side enjoyed "the lotus leaves are infinitely colorful, and the lotus flowers are of different colors".
The sunshine climbed up my knee, and it also wanted to see the ancient poems in my hand. Flowers fall gently, and small residual red is particularly conspicuous on the branches. They didn't realize there was silence until the birds flew away. It seems that I just need a quiet. Drop your eyes and close the window gently.
I am addicted to reading between the lines, reading lonely smoke in the desert and Qiao Feng bells.
The world of poetry composition 8 Wandering in the world of poetry, wandering in the corridor of poetry, I am psychic and transparent!
-inscription
Poetry, like a clear spring, gently ripples in my heart. ...
"Picking chrysanthemums under the east fence, you can see Nanshan leisurely." When I was a teenager, I didn't cater to the secular nature. Nature loves mountains and rivers, and being addicted to money is not Mr. Wu Liu's dream life. Why do you want material desires to suffocate you? It is better to retreat to the countryside, pick autumn chrysanthemums, smell them lightly, let the fragrance of chrysanthemums linger in your heart and wash away the filth in the world. Every time I read this poem, it's like the bright moon in the sky and the breeze blowing on my face. Tao Yuanming's tranquility really fascinates me. Let those people look up and inadvertently see the faint Nanshan!
"Oh, how can I bow and scrape to those who have high status and high positions? They will never tolerate others showing them a sincere face! " Li Taibai is so free and easy! He resolutely left the royal family, bid farewell to the treacherous Chang 'an, and began a roaming life centered on Donglu and Liangyuan. No intrigue, no rhetoric, how carefree! "Hsi Chin,, to that boy in good wine, we will drown the disaster of ten thousand generations! ! "The poet raised his glass and looked around, only to see the vast river running through the Central Plains, reaching the sky in the west and entering the sea in the east, which was unstoppable. In the face of the vast universe, the poet spit out the long-suppressed resentment and washed out a new world with strong spirit. His soul became a pure violet, blooming among the green mountains and green waters.
"In the past, a few romantic figures, look at the present." Time passed, and in 1936, the great man Mao Zedong stood on the frozen plateau in the north, calling out the infinitely beautiful rivers and mountains heroically. The poet injected his broad feelings into his poems, which made me appreciate his extraordinary wisdom and courage, and felt his firm confidence in national rejuvenation and infinite loyalty to the motherland! It's exciting and exciting to read!
Poetry is a beautiful autumn chrysanthemum, a flowing cloud and a light snowflake ... Poetry is the precipitation of rhythm and the crystallization of wisdom.
Looking up at the blue sky with a beautiful poetic heart and a pure dream, I will sing all the way.
For many students, appreciation of ancient poetry and selected reading of classical Chinese seem to be difficult points in exams abroad. But for me, they are not so much "enemies" as our strangers, because I am willing to walk into them and into the "Xanadu" sealed by history.
Once upon a time, I gradually fell in love with ancient poetry. Under the guidance of my parents, I can recite many ancient poems, but it always seems to be just words. I can't remember when those mysterious words that are always foggy and unclear seem to gently open their hearts to me and open the door to their world. Although it was only the tip of the iceberg, I did catch a glimpse of the beauty at that end. I began to greedily expand my horizons in various ways, from books to TV programs, everything related to ancient poetry and prose will attract my attention.
Finally entered the wonderful world of ancient poetry. There, I met talented people Li Bai, Du Fu, Xin Qiji, Top Gun, and graceful Li Qingzhao ... Every poem and phrase of them fascinated me, and I gradually lost myself and didn't know where to go. There, I enjoyed the mountains and solitary smoke in the desert and visited the land of bonfire and misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River. Gradually, I never understood ancient poetry and became able to understand the meaning of words and better understand the poet's joys and sorrows.
Now, I have regarded ancient poetry as a part of my life. When you are idle, walking on the road and whispering a few poems, your thoughts will fly to another world and talk and laugh with the ancients. Read classical Chinese several times in the examination room, and the story will be reflected in front of you like a slide. When reading the poems to be appreciated, the picture written by the poet is very clear, as if he had experienced it himself. This is a lyric that only I can hear.
The world of ancient poetry is not out of reach. As long as you are willing to open that door, it will bring you an unprecedented wonderful experience.