Selected Works of Bing Xin's Short and Beautiful Prose Part I: Introduction to Indian Philosophy From Circle to: The Prince Roars Like a Lion. If I continue to be sick, sad and distressed, I can't have three benefits and three bodhi, or I will pay it back. ? Feel it, do it. I just died, and a dark and tight circle has covered me from a distance, but I don't think so. Gradually, when I developed outward, I felt restricted and bound, as if I was shrinking inward-so scared! There is only darkness, distress and sadness in the circle.
It shrank a little, so I got up and ran along the side to let out a cry. And the result? It still covers me tightly and tightly, and I can only stand in the middle silently and can't move any more.
It shrunk a little bit, and I got up and ran along the side again. I get tired after counting too many times. Circle! I can't resist you after all? Will you be imprisoned here forever?
Get up! Be patient! Work hard!
Ah! This tight circle finally broke down. ─? When you look outside, there is only light, happiness and freedom outside the circle. ─? As long as I can jump out of the circle!
There is hope for the future. I can't resist forever I won't be trapped in it forever. Work hard! Be patient! Look at me splitting this distress and sadness into two and jumping out of the circle!
Selected Works of Bing Xin's Short and Beautiful Prose Part II: A Bird? I remember one thing I saw under the yard tree the day before yesterday. There is a bird whose nest is on the highest branch. Its feathers are not plump enough to fly far. Chatting in the nest every day, talking to two old birds,
They all feel very happy.
This morning, it woke up. Both old birds have gone to feed. It looked out and saw bright sunshine, green trees and beautiful scenery on the earth. Suddenly, his little head was full of new ideas. He shook his feathers and flew to the branch to give that compliment? Natural? Come and listen to the music. Its voice is full of clarity? Light? And then what? Beauty, when singing, it seems to be? Natural? I also listened with a smile. There are many children under the tree. They all looked up when they heard the song. Birds come out to sing every day, and children come to listen to them every day. Finally, they want to catch it.
Come out again! It was about to make a sound when suddenly it snorted. A marble flew from below. It turned over and fell from the tree. The two old birds in the Xieci flew like arrows, caught it and carried it back to the nest. Its blood dripped from the gap in the tree to the ground.
Since then, this song has disappeared. Those children want to look up at it and listen to its singing, but they can't.
Selected Short and Beautiful Prose of Bing Xin Part III: Laughter and rain gradually stopped, and clear light came through from behind the curtain. Open the window and have a look, ah! The clouds are gone, and the water droplets left on the leaves reflect the moon, flashing and moving like a thousand points of fluorescence. ? I didn't expect such a beautiful picture after the bitter rain and the lonely lamp!
Standing in front of the window for a while, I felt a little cold. When I turned around, I was dazzled, and everything else in the room was hidden in the light cloud; The faint light is only immersed in the angels in the paintings on the wall. ? Angels in white, holding flowers, raised her wings and smiled at me.
? This smile seems to have been seen somewhere. When have I ever sat under a window and thought unconsciously? Think silently.
The closed heart curtain slowly opened, pouring out an impression of five years ago. ? A long ancient road. The mud under the donkey's feet is slippery. The water in the ditch gurgled. The green trees near the village are all caged in wet smoke. Bowed crescent moon, hanging in the treetops. Walking, there seems to be a child on the side of the road, holding a pile of white things. The donkey passed by with no intention of turning back. ? He smiled at me barefoot with flowers in his arms.
? This smile seems to have been seen somewhere! ? Do I still want to? Think silently.
Another curtain of gravity appeared, which slowly opened and poured out the impression of ten years ago. ? The rain under the thatched eaves dripped on the clothes. The blisters on the edge of the earth steps are turning. The wheat ridges and grape racks in front of the door are very bright yellow. ? It finally cleared up after a while, and I quickly went downhill. I saw the moon coming head-on from the sea, and suddenly remembered that I had forgotten something, stopped and turned around. The old woman in this cabin? She leaned against the door with flowers in her hand and smiled at me slightly. This same subtle expression, like a hairspring, flutters and mixes together.
At this time, it is refreshing and peaceful, such as going to the celestial world and returning to my hometown. San Xiao, who appeared in front of me, melted for a while and could not see the harmony of love for a while.
A 700-word essay, without any modification or carving, just touches and dyes at will, and outlines three pictures: an angel in a painting, a village girl by the roadside and an old woman in a hut, each holding a bunch of flowers.
There is no sound, only three pictures. Three white flowers set off a smile, sincere, pure and natural. However, in the silence, I clearly and vaguely heard a lyric music that gently turned around. The sound of the violin is endless, and people talk in a low voice, so that they unconsciously follow it into a quiet world and are deeply intoxicated. Looking intently, the sound of the piano came to an abrupt end. At the end of the song, there was only San Xiao, three white flowers and an ethereal one. There seems to be laughter in the ethereal world, so soft and sweet, filled with pure love.