How to rewrite Tianjingsha Qiu Si into an article of about 350 words
It was a lonely late autumn dusk.
There is lingering music faintly coming from the distance: Don’t ask me where I come from, my hometown is far away, don’t ask me why I wander far away...
Autumn wind Autumn rain is so sad. The rain has stopped and the sun has set in the west, leaving only half a listless face on the top of the mountain, looking helplessly at this listless world. There are some lonely trees on the roadside with their heads hanging sadly, as if they are trying to break free from some wilting vines entangled in them. Crows were perched on the branches, occasionally circling, and their heavy breathing seemed to be heard in the air. The water in the creek on the roadside has almost dried up, and the remaining bit is still struggling silently. The curling smoke reminds pedestrians that there are still other people here, but those few rickety little huts really can't give much warmth to the dusk. Xiao Shiqiao has been lying on the river for many years, and it seems that he has never been happy. The running water is old, the stone slabs are old, and the small bridge is as old as an old centenarian, unable to withstand the trampling of time. Only the winding ancient road leads to the distance with heavy steps and strong energy.
He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he left home, and he didn’t know how far it was to return home. He only felt as if he had been walking on this ancient road for a thousand or ten thousand years. The west wind was already chilling, and he shivered again. The horse trembled under him, making his heart tremble. The horse was so thin, what about himself? He didn't dare to look or think. The west wind picked up again, and he felt the hair on his temples flying wildly. He suddenly felt sad: A wandering man dare not look in the mirror! How many more gray hairs should there be in the mirror!
Let’s go, let’s go, walk on this ancient road of yellow dust, walk in the spring flowers and autumn moon, and walk in the real history. How far is youth? How far is your hometown? How far is the ideal? Don’t think about it, don’t ask for it. Another day is about to pass, the ancient road is endless, and the sorrow is endless! In the wind, in the increasingly dark and cold dusk, some sentences suddenly became clear in his heart:
Withered vines and old trees, dusky crows,
Small bridge Houses on the flowing water,
The old road is the west wind and the thin horse,
The setting sun,
The heartbroken people are at the end of the world.
"The Sky is Clean and the Sand" is a 350-word essay on autumn thoughts.
On an autumn evening, on the desolate ancient road, the west wind blew strong and the fallen leaves were flying; beside the road, there were withered vines. On the old trees, the crows have returned to their nests, chirping from time to time; not far away, in the sparse cottages near the small bridge and flowing water, people are preparing dinner, and there are wisps of smoke. At this time, a man led a thin horse and walked slowly on the ancient road alone. It seems that this is a stranger. Where will he stay? After making such foreshadowing, the author vividly reveals the theme of the work: The stranger glanced at the setting sun and couldn't help but sigh: "Heartbroken Man" At the end of the world." At dusk, a crow returning to its nest fell on an old tree entangled with dead vines. Flying sand swept through the town. A figure appeared at the end of the ancient road in the town, leading a thin horse that was hungry and overworked. No, that shouldn't be said. It should be said that the thin horse is holding him. He was forced to wander outside due to family constraints. His eyes had long lost their former light, replaced by confusion and hesitation. The river sparkled in the setting sun, and the huts of several families were small but extremely cozy. At this time, he thought of that home, that big mansion; he thought of the delicious food, the table full of delicacies from the mountains and seas; and he thought of his mother... When he thought of his mother, long-lost tears streaked down his face. He didn't want to think about it anymore, and he didn't dare to think about it anymore. He was tired and fell down on the other side of the bridge; he was sleepy and wanted to sleep for a while, but only for a short while. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, so calm and peaceful, with a smile on his lips.
I walked slowly under the sunset, and the afterglow of the sun stretched my lonely shadow longer and longer.
It is late autumn now,
I am alone,
riding a rugged and thin horse,
the horse is with me It has been wandering in another country for many days.
It has gradually lost weight.
It no longer has the strength and vitality of the past.
We walked on the winding ancient road paved with stones
.
A gust of west wind blew, fluttering my sleeves , swinging, bringing up the fallen leaves on the ground, making a rustling sound, and pulling my thoughts to the front of my eyes. What I saw was desolation, just like my state of mind.
An old tree, a dead vine. The old tree looks tired and weak, like an old man who is slowly declining. It seems that it has reached the end of its life and will fall down at any time.
A few withered vines wrapped around the big tree weakly,
making a sad ***,
the twisted The knot on the tree trunk seemed to be tied in my heart.
The dead vines were feebly wrapped around the old tree
and an inexplicable sadness lingered in my heart.
"Wow! Wow! Quack! Quack!" A hoarse cry passed by my ears and went away in the cold autumn wind. That
is a crow,
it must also be old,
old and dim.
Has it experienced the same vicissitudes as the old tree?
Does it have infinite sentimentality and melancholy about this evening scene? Can it find a home for the night?
Helpless,
continue walking on the desolate ancient road,
there is no noise of market customs around,
a small bridge crosses Across the two banks of the stream, the water flows from ancient times, seeming to pour out endless sadness. Its song is heartbreaking, like the murmur of a wanderer. After walking across the small bridge, I raised my head and suddenly saw a small village faintly in front of me. I couldn't help but quicken my steps.
The smoke from the kitchen is misty, like an old mother's thoughts that are wandering. A quiet and peaceful scene, this scene stirred up my deep homesickness. I have been wandering for several years and have never returned to my hometown. How can I not miss it?
I can’t help but think of my childhood,
playing carefree every day,
having fun,
being by my parents’ side every day .
And now,
I am wandering in a foreign country with no news of my hometown. The feeling of homesickness fills my whole body, making it difficult for me to sleep at night.
His eyes returned to the ancient road in front of him.
This road was built in an unknown year.
It is uneven.
< p> BendThe bend adds a bit of sadness to my heart.
The dusk is falling, and the night is coming. I couldn't help but tighten my robe and quicken my pace. I still have to walk a few more steps before it gets dark.
But where is my destination?
Everything was quiet.
Is it time for the children to go home after playing all day? In the warm house,
hot and fragrant meals have been prepared
and are waiting for them. And I, this heartbroken person, am still drifting alone in despair
Parked at the end of the world?
Write a 350-word essay on "The Sky is Pure and the Shas Autumn"
< p>Eighty-nine times life is unsatisfactory. In order to relieve the loneliness and depression in my heart, I rode on the skinny old horse that accompanied me day and night, and embarked on a journey of loving the mountains and rivers.
I traveled all the way and saw many beautiful mountains and beautiful waters, but my melancholy and lonely mood did not change much. What I saw in my eyes was dilapidation and misery. At dusk, I came with Lao Ma We arrived under a big old tree. I thought back on how vibrant it was back then, but today I can't see the shadow of life on it. A thick vine hung on it, which has withered. At the beginning, the vine grew so quickly against the tree and climbed so high. The tree was also extremely beautiful because of the entanglement of the vine. But today, when the tree grows old, the vine has lost the basis for survival. And withered. In this lifeless environment, only the crow of the crow that returns home at dusk shows a little vitality, but it is monotonous and ugly.
Saying goodbye to the old trees, withered vines, and dusky crows, I rode on horseback. OK, I came to a small bridge. The water in the river flowed forward. The sound was so beautiful, as if I was singing a beautiful song. When I saw the small bridge and heard the flowing water, I felt a light feeling in my heart. I feel so relieved, not to mention that there is a family not far from the bridge. In this misty dusk, smoke is rising from that family. I think this family must be happy and warm tonight. Their family is here How warm it is to enjoy this quiet night together, but the warmth, happiness, and warmth are theirs, so where are mine?
The northwest wind is blowing, and it is cold for once. It hit me for the first time, and I could only lead my old horse on the ancient road, not knowing where to go. To the west, a blood-red sun was slowly setting in the west, and half of the sky was soaked in it like fire. Gorgeous. Looking at this beautiful scene, I can only sigh: Heartbroken people are wandering at the end of the world, wandering, wandering, wandering into the distance.
Write a story with the poetry of pure sand and autumn thoughts
Dry vines twined around the old trees, and a group of crows returned at dusk perched on the trees. The crows raised their heads to the sky and screamed, as if they were singing a tragic autumn song. After listening to that tragic voice, I felt sad. People burst into tears, and the vines and old trees seemed to be weeping.
A small bridge spans the creek. On the other side of the bridge is a house. White smoke slowly rises from the chimney and rises into the sky. Pedestrians on the bridge are slowly moving forward while they are talking to the white clouds about their inner pain. , everyone lowered their heads. The water in the stream was filled with the tears of passers-by, singing a sad song and flowing into the distance. I think it was a song about missing home! At this time, They must be looking for their own homes and long-lost family members. A traveler with a haggard face was riding a scrawny horse, braving the cold wind and dust on the desolate ancient road. Naughty wind child, stop blowing. You are too strong. He can't bear it. He is too weak. Put down your strong arms and let your mother touch him! Ye, don't fall. It's on him. You made him lose all his vitality. Sun, don't set. The wanderer in a foreign country has not returned yet. His relatives still don't know where he is in the world. Without your sunshine, the wanderer will not be able to see his way home for a long time. Then his family will be even more worried about him.
"Tianjingsha. Autumn Thoughts" is expanded to 300 words
"Tianjingsha. Autumn Thoughts" is expanded to 300 words
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Chapter 1: Expansion of "Tianjingsha·Autumn Thoughts"
A few withered yellow leaves quietly looked at the autumn wind blowing on the earth. The dry vines were hanging loosely and listlessly around the old trees.
Listen, the wind blows on the tree trunk, and the sound it makes seems to be the old tree constantly complaining about the inequality of fate; look, the sun is shining on the dead vines, and the dull light seems to be the dead vines. The lost fire of life.
At dusk, a few crows made sad and distant calls in the rustling autumn wind.
In the dim dusk, the graceful small river gurgled and happily rushed into the distance. The houses located among the mountains were so harmonious under the lingering influence of the river. The family next to the house is sitting on the bench, talking and laughing happily... But where is my home? When can I enjoy this family happiness?
On the bumpy ancient road, the wind blows from west to north, and I don’t think there will be any turbulence in my heart. I closed my eyes, pulled the horse rope with my left hand, and quietly used my heart to melt the chill in my heart... Unexpectedly, my mind became connected with the horse, hey, horse, horse, you are just like me, wandering Uncertain, we are at home all over the world... The setting sun at dusk gradually fades away. The setting sun left that moment of brilliance before the wind flowed away. The sunset is also going home... The sadness in my heart can't help but surge forward... The heartbroken person - me - is walking all over the country.
Chapter 2: Expanding "Autumn Thoughts on the Pure Sky and Sands"
At dusk, a few clouds drifted in the sky, and on the trees, a few dead vines clung weakly to the old trees. , the west wind blew in waves, and a few crows flew back to their nests helplessly, with a few crows heard from time to time.
I rode listlessly. The horse, my only companion, wanders with me around the world and is exhausted. What about me? I am also skinny. The west wind blew through a few strands of my hair, and a trace of sadness passed through my heart: When can I return to my hometown?
The morning sun has slipped to the west, and not far ahead, there is a small bridge. Under the small bridge, a gurgling stream flows through, and bursts of laughter can be heard from a house. What a blessing! Now, where is my family? Are their lives happy? Thinking of this, my homesickness becomes even stronger.
Standing on the ancient road, the west wind blew my cheeks mercilessly, but what is this compared with the pain of homesickness? Wanderer! When will you end this miserable life of living in the open? Thinking, thinking, I lay on a piece of withered grass and fell asleep. The dream took me to my fantasy home...
"Tian Jing Sha" written by Qiu Si, 350 words
To the west, a round of setting sun slanted over the barren mountains, and everything on the ground was covered in a blur of blood.
The rustling autumn wind hit me mercilessly, and it also eroded my soul.
I was walking alone in a foreign land, and the only person accompanying me was the skinny old horse that I lived with day and night. After many days of wandering, it was already as exhausted as me. I pulled it and staggered forward, hoping to stay overnight at someone else's house, but there seemed to be no end in sight on this desolate ancient road. Just like my current state of mind, after today, I don’t know if there will be tomorrow, so I can only take one step at a time.
I led the old horse to a big old tree. Looking at the few fragile dead branches left, I couldn't help but think of how full of vitality it was in the Mood for Love. But now, the old tree in front of me has lost its brilliance and become dim, with no trace of life on it at all. The vines wrapped around it have withered, and it looks so weak. I think back then, its vitality was so strong! Because it grows so quickly and climbs so high against the tree. When it gradually gets old, it can no longer withstand the ravages of wind and rain, and can only die silently. The cries of crows returning home at dusk broke the silent sky. Although it showed some vitality, it was monotonous and harsh.
I pulled the old horse and continued to move forward. I saw a small stream with gurgling water and crystal clear water. There is a small wooden bridge only one foot wide across the stream. The wooden planks are uneven and very crude. The stream flows gurglingly, so freely, so cheerfully, so carefree. Listening to the running water, my melancholy mood actually felt slightly relieved.
There were a few wisps of light smoke coming from that house floating in the dusky sky, carrying the smell of rice and rushing toward them. I looked back and saw the happy smiling faces of a family of three reflected on the light yellow window paper. Looking back at myself, I am lonely and alone. Even if I am accompanied by Lao Ma, there is no warmth. My family is in my distant hometown
How to rewrite Tianjingsha Qiu Si in 350 words
Tianjingsha Qiu Si (Part 1)
[ Yuan Dynasty]·Ma Zhiyuan
Withered vines and old trees, dim crows, small bridges and flowing water, people’s houses, west wind and thin horses on the ancient road.
The sun sets in the west, and the heartbroken people are at the end of the world.
Not far from the ancient road, there is a dead old vine hanging on an old tree with a vicissitudes of history. From time to time, disgusting crow calls can be heard from the middle of the tree. The dead old vine and crows The cries of the old tree inevitably add an infinite desolate color to this ancient road. Looking around, next to this old tree is a small bridge with clear and quiet river water. The small bridge is not exquisite in craftsmanship, but it also makes people passing by. It is a kind of enjoyment for passers-by. There are some houses arranged in an orderly manner by the river. The smoke from the cooking stoves makes it appear quiet and peaceful. You can vaguely see the warmth and comfort of the small village. On the ancient road, a thin old horse is carrying Ling Lie. The west wind is carrying the master on a difficult journey. And his master is staring at all this. The sunset is setting in the west, casting a cold slanting light. This is the reunion of birds returning to their nests, sheep and cattle returning home, and people returning home. Every moment, countless wanderers miss their hometown and feel homesick. At this time, they will face the pain of having nowhere to go and the pain of missing their hometown, which makes many people heartbroken.
Days Jingsha Qiusi writes a short story
Late autumn is here. It came with a lingering softness, and painted a tragic and desolate picture. Dry vines twined around the old trees, and a group of crows returned at dusk perched on the trees. The crows looked up to the sky and screamed, as if they were singing a tragic autumn song. That tragic sound made people cry after listening to it. The vines and old trees seemed to be crying. A small bridge spans the creek. On the other side of the bridge is a house. White smoke slowly rises from the chimney and rises into the sky. Pedestrians on the bridge are slowly moving forward while they are talking to the white clouds about their inner pain. , everyone lowered their heads. The water in the stream was filled with the tears of passers-by, singing a sad song and flowing into the distance. I think it was a song about missing home! At this time, They must be looking for their own homes and long-lost family members. A traveler with a haggard face was riding a scrawny horse, braving the cold wind and dust on the desolate ancient road. Naughty wind child, stop blowing. You are too strong. He can't bear it. He is too weak. Put down your strong arms and let your mother touch him! Ye, don't fall. It's on him. You made him lose all his vitality. Sun, don't set. The wanderer in a foreign country has not returned yet. His relatives still don't know where he is at the end of the world. Without your sunshine, the wanderer will not be able to see his way home for a long time. Then his family will be even more worried about him. Xiaohe Composition Network
Wanderer, go back quickly, your family is still waiting for you. Your mother with gray hair and your innocent and lively child are looking at the setting sun and chanting, "The sunset is infinitely beautiful, but it's almost dusk." Go back quickly, go back quickly.
Qiu Si rewritten as a short story requires 350 words
I have lived in Luoyang City for three or four years, and my hair is gray. What is happening to my family? Are you still alive in the world? Makes me uneasy.
At night, I came to the window, and a bright moon shed a long and gentle light. I couldn't help but think of my relatives in my hometown. It was like "the bright moonlight in front of the window, I suspected it was the frost on the ground. I looked up at the bright moon and lowered my head to miss my hometown." I couldn't help but shed tears. These tears are tears of homesickness. At this time, suddenly the leaves on the tree fell down, and the autumn wind rolled up the leaves again. Sigh...
I came to the study and wanted to write a letter to my family, but I didn’t know where to start. There were too many things to say... After a long time, I finally finished the letter. Then he fell asleep unconsciously.
Early in the morning, I sealed the letter and tied it with fine silk. A hurried figure rode to the door of the inn, "Oh! So you are specially sent to deliver messages to others." He said, "Yes." I handed the letter to him carefully. When he was leaving, I handed the letter to him again. Pick it up to see if there is anything you forgot to write, then hold the envelope again and give it to the person leaving. I asked the messenger to be careful on the road and to deliver this letter to my family. Let them know that I am still here and it will be two or three years before I can go back.
Looking at him walking away, hot tears blurred my eyes...
Tianjing Sha Qiusi adapted it into a short story
Riding Alone I was walking on the country road with my horse. The horse had been wandering with me in other places for many days. It had gradually lost weight and no longer had the strength and vitality of the past.
The old trees on both sides of the road stood there lifelessly, most of the green leaves had long since disappeared, and the few remaining yellow leaves were swaying precariously in the autumn wind, making a death struggle. A few dead vines were weakly wrapped around the big tree, making sad cries. The twisted knots on the trunk seemed to be in my heart, and the bursts of pain made me want to cry without tears.
"Squeak—" A crow's cry came from the horizon, which seemed so sad and echoed between the heaven and the earth for a long time. Maybe it was too hungry because of too little food. Why don't I want to scream loudly and pour out the sorrow in my heart?
There was no hustle and bustle around the city. The gurgling water was so clear. The sound of the water kept reaching my ears. A small bridge spanned both sides of the stream, and several houses were also reflected in our view. In the field of vision, there is nothing unique, and the rural charm seems bland.
My eyes returned to the ancient road in front of me. I don’t know what year or month this road was built. It was uneven and winding, which added a bit of sadness to my heart.
It is dusk, and the setting sun is gradually setting, throwing its last few rays of red light to the earth. The west wind was blowing. Although it was not as biting as the cold wind in winter, it still stung my face like a knife, and it stung my heart even more.
I can’t help but think of my childhood, playing and having fun every day without any worries, being by my parents’ side every day. But now, wandering in a foreign country with no news from my hometown, the feeling of homesickness fills my whole body, making it difficult for me to sleep at night.
Does anyone understand me, a heartbroken person who wanders around the world?