Langtaosha was changed into a 200-word short story. Langtaosha (middle Tang Dynasty, Liu Yuxi) has nine meanders of Yellow River sand in Wan Li, and waves and strong winds swept across the horizon. Since you are from the sky, and now you seem to fly directly to the Milky Way, please take me to the sky, gather in the Milky Way, and go to the home of Cowherd and Weaver Girl together. Wan Li Yellow River twists and turns, carrying sediment, rolling all the way, as if from a distant and mysterious horizon. Now we can fly along the Yellow River to the Milky Way and visit the home of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.
"Waves on the Beach" rewrote the short story "Yellow River and sand in Wan Li, waves and wind blowing from the horizon. Now go directly to the Milky Way, to the home of Penny and Weaver Girl. " This poem was written by Liu Yuxi, a writer in the Tang Dynasty. It's called "Langtaosha".
The meaning of this poem is that the winding Yellow River, carrying the sediment waves of Wan Li, rushes to Wan Li and rolls in from the distant horizon. Today, the poet is still riding the stormy wind and waves, risking his own life to confront the Yellow Sand in Wan Li, rushing upstream to the Milky Way, letting the Yellow River carry the poet and happily rush to the home of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl with the Yellow River.
In this poem, most poets describe the Yellow River in an exaggerated way. He described the Yellow River as so dangerous and terrible that it kills people like a whirlpool, but no matter how difficult it is, the poet must overcome it.
I think the author must have experienced many setbacks. He traveled halfway around the world and got black and blue all over himself, but he still didn't give up his goal of exploring the mysteries of nature. Finally, he thought that Galaxy was a guest of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl. He walked to the Yellow River with sediment in his arms, and the waves were raging, but no matter how difficult and dangerous it was, he had to overcome it. His dream must come true. He carried the yellow sand in Wan Li and went upstream.
"Langtaosha" has been rewritten into a short story of about 50 words. The Yellow River winds from afar and carries the yellow sand in Wan Li all the way.
Now that you have come up from the horizon, it seems that you are going to fly directly to the high-altitude galaxy. Please take me soaring, gather in the Milky Way, and visit the Cowherd and the Weaver Maid.
Langtaosha Jiuqu Yellow River Bay Lisa
Author: Liu Yuxi
The Yellow River winds from a distant place, carrying thousands of miles of yellow sand.
Since you are from the sky, and now you seem to fly directly to the Milky Way, please take me to the sky, gather in the Milky Way, and go to the home of Cowherd and Weaver Girl together.
Brief introduction of the author
Liu Yuxi (772 ~ 842) was a writer and philosopher in the Tang Dynasty. The word Meng De is from Luoyang (now Henan) and Zhongshan (now Dingxian, Hebei). His poems are popular and fresh, and he makes good use of metaphors to entrust political content. Poems such as Zhuzhi Ci, Liuzhi Ci, and Flower Arrangement Tian Ge are rich in folk songs and unique in Tang poetry. There is Selected Works of Liu Mengde.
Rewriting Huanxisha into a Short Story One day, Su You, a great poet in the Song Dynasty, went to Qishui and heard from the locals that the scenery in Qingquan Temple there was beautiful. In the morning, Su Shi went to Qingquan Temple. Next to Qingquan Temple, there is a stream named Lanxi, which is different from others, but actually flows westward. The stream at the foot of the mountain is gurgling, and the bluegrass beside the stream is sprouting, spreading and infiltrating in the stream. The sandy road between pine and cypress is washed by spring rain and clean without mud. It is dusk, and the cuckoo in the pine forest is singing in the drizzle. What a beautiful and peaceful mountain view it is! When Su Shi saw it, his heart was filled with emotion: Seeing that this stream can flow westward, who said that life can no longer be young? Stop sighing for your white hair, hurry up and don't waste any more time!
Qiu Si was rewritten into a 450-word short story. On a lonely night, after dinner, Zhang Ji sat in his small yard and enjoyed the bright moonlight. It hangs in the sky, which really increases the secrets of the 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 a cotton-padded jacket that his mother sewed for him 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.
The next day, as soon as the sun climbed the hillside, Zhang Ji handed the letter to Wang San.
When Wang San was ready to leave, Zhang Ji took the letter back, opened it and wrote: You should be happy every day, don't be unhappy about a little thing ... After writing these Zhang Ji, he gave the letter to Wang San, who rode away at a gallop.
Zhang Ji looked at Wang San, who was far away, and he was both happy and sad. I am glad that I can write to my mother, but I am sad that I don't know when I can return to my hometown.
Qiu Si was rewritten into a 500-word short story. On the night of Mid-Autumn Festival, the sky is deep blue, there are no clouds in Wan Li, and the moon is particularly beautiful. It hung in the sky like a huge white jade plate, and the bright moonlight covered the earth with a layer of silver. The stars are scattered, only scattered in the horizon. I was walking in Luoyang, and I saw the autumn wind blowing and tall poplars rustling in the wind. Some yellow leaves reluctantly left the tree, swayed a few times in the wind and fell to the ground. At this time, I couldn't help but feel homesick and went straight to my apartment.
Sitting alone in a chair, I am very upset, like sticky silk drawn from a spider's stomach, winding around my heart, making me flustered. At this moment, it suddenly occurred to me: Why don't I write a letter home to express my homesickness? Immediately light the candle, spread the paper and grind the ink. But just as I was about to start writing, countless words appeared in my mind, and I didn't know where to start. Thought: I want to express my meaning, I have to write more content. Then, I picked up a pen and carefully wrote this letter under the red candlelight, writing down all the things I thought, what I wanted to say and how I wanted to express my feelings. ...
Suddenly I heard a rooster crow, but I haven't finished writing this letter because I have too many facts to write. I have written this thing, and I still remember that thing, which seems to be endless. It was not until sunrise that I blew out the candlelight and stretched my waist with a pen. Although it exhausted me, I thought it was worth it, because I told my relatives in my hometown.
I hurried to the post office and found a friend who returned to China and asked him to take the letter to my relatives. When he was leaving, I was worried that I didn't finish what I wanted to say in a hurry. I opened a good letter and read it, then sealed it, gave it to my friend and said goodbye to him.
At this time, the sky is particularly clear and white clouds are smiling. Tall poplars clap their hands in the morning breeze, and several yellow butterflies are flying in the air. ...
Qiu Si adapted it into a short story and Qiu Si revised it.
The autumn wind is rustling, the leaves are yellow, the wind is blowing and the yellow leaves are falling. In Luoyang city, autumn is thick and the cold wind is cold, which makes people feel the bleak scene of autumn.
One morning, the poet Zhang Ji pushed open the door and came to the yard. When he saw the old pagoda tree in the yard that he didn't pay much attention to at ordinary times, it was covered with yellow leaves. He couldn't help feeling sad. "When can I go home?" Dear relatives in my hometown, are you all right? "He stood facing his hometown and stared at the blue sky for a long time. ...
After a long sigh, the poet turned back to his study. He sat at his desk, polished the ink, spread out the paper and picked up the pen. He wants to pour all his thoughts on the pen and pin them on this letter from home, but he doesn't know where to start with a thousand words. At this time, his mind came up with happy times with his parents, happy scenes of playing with his brothers and sisters, and inseparable scenes when he left his parents ... Thinking about it, he couldn't help but burst into tears. Sitting at the desk, the brush in Zhang Ji's hand seems to weigh a thousand pounds, but I haven't seen it fall for a long time. ...
Tomorrow, the messenger for Zhang Ji will leave. Zhang Ji wrote a letter overnight and sighed at the same time, regretting that he could not say hello to his parents in person. I'm afraid this hastily written letter can't fully express my thoughts about my relatives in my hometown. In this way, I wrote and revised, revised and revised, and finally finished writing the letter. He took the envelope, folded the letter paper in half and folded it in half again, and put it in the envelope smoothly. Near midnight, he turned off the light and went to bed. But there were too many thoughts, and he tossed and turned, making it difficult to sleep.
The next morning, a friend who sent a letter to Zhang Ji came. Zhang Ji gave the letter to his friend. The friend took the letter, got on the horse and was ready to leave with a whip. Zhang Ji seems to suddenly think of something. He hurried back to his friend's letter, checked it many times and added a few words. Only in this way can I seriously give the letter to my friend, remind him and urge him.
The friend took the letter, carefully packed it, got on the horse, and "rode-"his friend flew away. Zhang Ji stood in the same place for a long time with tears in his eyes.