Modern Beautiful Prose Recitation 0 1: The solstice in early summer is still early.
Cicada is silent and still tired of thinking. In the end, if life is first seen, people's hearts will change.
The rain gradually stopped, and the breeze blew, blowing up the skirts and lifting my heart. Sunset drops, leaving a splash-ink landscape painting. Rain cicada gently put her hair into a bun, which means Sandy, with a ray of tenderness and tenderness, waiting for the happiness of the ends of the earth in Rong Ruo.
In the world, the rain cicada does not love the country; If Yu Rong, the smile of the rain cicada is better than ecstasy.
It's getting late. Looking up at the sky, the stars are already shining, and Rong Ruo is pacing in the falling starlight. Looking back, the rain cicada leaned against the fence, gently blowing the wind, blowing away the prosperity of the world and the memories of Rong Ruo obsession. Memories are, after all, the dribs and drabs of life, but dribs and drabs become richer and richer among cups and cups, becoming the unhappiness of teenagers. She stared at the sky, and her mouth was full of charming classical charm. On the moon, the lonely phoenix tree is just addicted to obsession. Romantic III gave you a wisp of fragrance, only regretting that III was too long, for fear of losing his original heart in the long night's tossing and turning.
The darker the twilight, the more heartless the world of mortals, tired of love and hurting my heart. Rong Ruo raised his glass and drank too much, for fear of waking up for a while and taking away his beloved. As long as the soft voice of silk and bamboo breaks my yearning, I can enjoy loneliness in my spare time. It's raining in the red chamber, which is somewhat beautiful. Unexpectedly, the world is cold, and when I wake up, I am lost.
I still remember the snow at the beginning of that year, and the world wrapped in silver seemed to float around, fading away the glitz and adding coolness. But Rong Ruo's world is gentle as water for the rain cicada. I saw her stupid eyes stay in the fallen flowers scattered on the ground, quietly falling with snow and burying the fallen flowers. Maybe her unbearable heart is flooding again, and she doesn't want to be so beautiful and fragrant. Sandy gently brushed away the shy outer quilt, as if afraid that the world would pass through her fingers. Rong Ruo easily indulges in her world.
Perhaps the touch of life is made up of small surprises. Rong Ruo walked into her world gently, perhaps wittily again and again, and his seemingly weak fingers secretly blindfolded her. However, it blocks the flowers of a lifetime and the passage of a lifetime. At this time, the world in her eyes is him, he is her heart and soul, and she is intoxicated. At that time, unscrupulous scholars, politicians and rulers lived in the world. They integrate flattery with themselves and know nothing about who is who. Rong Ruo's innocence, innocence and gentleness are the keepsakes of her recognition with the vast sea of people and Rong Ruo.
Snow is the most impersonal thing in the world, which can be ravaged into thousands of forms. But even a smiling snowman will silently shed crystal tears. Smile and face other people's world, cry and sigh your life. The love between Rong Ruo and Yuchan is like the snow this winter. In any case, no one can deny that it has put aside all worldly things. He and she depend on each other in this cold winter, listening to the passage of time.
Love is like a seed, which takes root and thrives, and everything is always silent. Just looking back for an instant, it is densely shaded and shining in the green waves. It's just that all this was caught off guard.
In the sixteenth year of Kangxi, Rong Ruo's father suddenly rose from the official department to the university of Wuyingdian. And the rain cicada is pregnant with Rong Ruo's baby. It can be described as double happiness. Rong Ruo is full of expectations for the unborn child. Perhaps a child can read his mind like a cicada, and he can pass on his profound knowledge.
When I was young, I never believed in fate. I thought it was just a joke imagined by idealists. Isn't life in your own hands? So when we are young, we will go forward bravely, and the world will be as big as our hearts. However, what is crucial to growth is our innocence, and we have no resistance to time. Until one day, we found that the fate that we laughed at at at the beginning was now played by it again and again. No one can escape, and Rong Ruo is no exception.
Rong Ruo didn't sleep that night, he lost his heart that night, and he became a real poet that night. Seeking to be with Qian Shan is to fulfill the long-cherished wish of life. However, if we lose our mutual understanding, even if we dominate the world, we will only be lonely. Indus deep courtyard locks autumn, willow bank breeze blows the waning moon. Who knows who is lonely, who is distressed and who is at a loss. It's always worth making a vow.
Rong Ruo may not love the child, but it's not the child's fault. It's just God's fault. If the rain cicada can give birth to him safely, he is also a proud little boy.
One night in the east wind, happiness is fleeting in the sky. The rain cicada turned into a wisp of smoke for the child. She came to this world with nothing, entered the world of a generation of writers, and took away Rong Ruo's fiery heart and the deepest love in the world in the most cruel way. Love itself is the torture of happiness, but without happiness, all that remains is a cold autumn candle.
Two people in a generation fight for two ecstasy all their lives.
Acacia don't look at each other, who is spring?
Begging from the blue bridge is easy, but rushing into the blue shipwreck.
Rong Ruo visited Oxford, but he forgot about poverty.
? Nalan Rong Ruo's Spring in the Flower Hall
The snow on the broken bridge falls on the summer solstice.
Search, meet again. It's misty and rainy, like a previous marriage. The lake is rippling, the tears are drooping, and the eyes are picturesque, far from rubbing shoulders. Looking back, I can see the way when I came, but I can't see my old friend. Lotus lanterns, under the stars and moons, drift away. Happy reunion and sad parting, as always. How do you know he missed it again and never came again? Listen, at the end of the broken bridge, that beautiful woman is crying But I am trapped by love again, but I still can't escape.
Everything that has been here is gone, and how much affection has been lost in this lake. The mountains and rivers are heavy, I pass by, you have been here, but you have never met them. Misty rain is safe, but this is the only meaning to tell you. Recalling the past, three thousand is prosperous; Vaguely, but quicksand at the fingertips. Year after year, the bridge is crowded, but you are nowhere to be seen. Laugh and frown, sigh and dry Kun. My whole life, it's still the same. Whose face suddenly appeared in your eyes, old dreams, empty sighs, forgetting words.
Wash away the lead, and the old friend is far away. Has anyone seen the little cinnabar between Iraqis' eyebrows? I stood by the bridge with an umbrella, screaming. You are standing in the distant Chang 'an, admiring the world, and how do you know that you can't escape the dreamlike misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River? In an instant, the snow fell all over the city and tears fell a few lines. Just look at the fence, you can't see the world. After all, the mountains are far away and the water is far away, which is a dance. Let's meet another day and have fun.
The pavilion is in the middle of the lake, and beautiful people hope. In the dead of night, with bright lights, I feel sad. I am alone, but it is still early. Where to find an afterlife and wait for an unsuccessful marriage. Light a lamp and play a predestination of past lives. When it rained, the snow began to fall again. When love dies, it will be reborn. When a boat crosses the lake, the piano at the bow is long and the homesickness at the stern is sleepless. Can you see it? How much sadness spilled on the lake, butterflies danced and splashed smoke. From then on, I lived a comfortable life.
It's drizzling, putting on makeup in front of the mirror, and making a promise for whom. Byakki Smoker faded out of her prime, adding a wisp of white hair, and her face gradually changed. ? The rain fell on the pavilion and the flowers fell. Sighing about the past, I don't know how times have changed, a land of acacia, a place of sadness. May I meet you again when acacia is in full bloom and the bridge is broken in the rain. If you wear plain white, everything is happy. The fireworks broke, so I reached out and held them tightly for a while.
Tears of an old friend, thousands of scattered. A glass of wine heartbroken, is it gathering or parting? The branches are chirping and the strings are broken. Who will listen? On the way home, were you alone? Sad and sad, watching the running water take away the last fallen leaf. The sunset reflects the red lake, you smile in the lake, but I cry on the shore, drop by drop, silently, for pity. In my dream, I saw acacia fall on your shoulder, and the drizzle finally annihilated this marriage that didn't start or end.
If I go back in time, my thoughts will gradually sink on that day. Gently hid the dream in the pillow, and in the quiet night, it drifted away and he was blurred. I have never seen a man in plain clothes after lights out, nor have I seen a fireworks marriage. My eyes are glued to the rice paper with wet ink, and everything in my eyes is the past, blurring the years and quietly leaving.
Recalling the past years, the rain hit the branches and the tears wet the skirts. Stranger in the world of mortals, have you turned back? Under the moon, is the man still drinking in front of the flowers? The wind is blowing, the clouds are surging, and the sky is painted with ink. Red leaves are swaying in the wind, and there are broken hearts. Who is still whispering at the bridge, who is looking forward to not coming back? The world is like a song, for whom to sing the final farewell song. You were brave on the battlefield, and I missed you in the pavilion. For a moment in my life, I only want to be immortal.
The heart has a heart, and the heart has a complaint. A little sadness in my brow, tears in my eyes. On the side guarding the city gate, no matter how chaotic the city is, I will only guard the peace in the city. Under the eaves, a curtain of rain falls, fingers rustle and the piano sounds like a dream. I know you've been a soldier for half your life, so you haven't been there for years. Day and night, year after year. Albizia julibrissin is not as good as in the past, water and sky are the same, and the breeze is late, as if it were yesterday. I can't talk to you about something. Is it too late or too late?
Now my hair has turned white and my face has declined. I want to recall the past, but I don't know where to recall it. If we can do it all over again, we will continue along this track and keep our beliefs in the rainy season. Will we meet again from now on? I'm still waiting for you at the broken bridge, and I won't go back. You are still high above, looking at Chang 'an, the snow is falling. The solstice summer came, and I hid in the snow in the middle of the lake. Snow dyes your hair, tears turn into ice, and your heart goes with you.
In the future, lest you and I become strangers from now on. The wind and snow are bleak, and the piano sounds again. The thin shadow of acacia is oblique, and I suddenly see your figure. If the flowers are pitiful, I wish I had nowhere to put them.
Modern beautiful prose recitation 03: fall in love with words and have a good time.
One day in June, I sat in front of the computer with great interest, fell in love with words and had a good time.
When my fingertips danced on the keyboard, a familiar and comfortable feeling stirred my empty and lonely heart like spring breeze; Every time I write about the scene of spring, my heart is like a hundred flowers blooming, and the feeling of being integrated with spring is really beautiful. Writing about the summer scenery, my heart is like a lotus leaf in the lotus pond, full of the rhythm of life. Write the colors of autumn. When you are in a good mood, autumn wind and autumn rain are worrying? Rain hits the leaves of banana trees? That sentence should really be the artistic conception in my heart, with infinite sadness. When I write about the cold in winter, the seeds planted in the soil in my heart will fall asleep quietly. Soon, when the situation of blowing open the petals of ten thousand pear trees is no longer, the power of seeds breaking through the ground will be amazing.
When I write a beautiful life with true feelings and sincerity, I always have tears in my eyes; When I realized the true meaning of life, I remembered? Facing the sea, spring blossoms? Poetry, the mood suddenly enlightened; When I think of my grandmother who groans in pain in other places, I will always be deeply attached to her, pouring out my feelings with my fingertips, and my heart is full of memories and thoughts. Many times, when I expressed that I married a friend and alienated me, I was heartbroken without even a greeting or a phone call. After much thought, tears and disappointment, I realized that having a friend in this life is enough. It is a rare fate to meet and know each other in the rolling world of mortals and the vast sea of people.
When the moonlight is melancholy, loneliness and sadness flow at the fingertips. Listening to an equally sad song, there is nostalgia and suffering between the lines. The blue sky, white clouds, flowers, trees, breeze, birds and cicadas are always in such an intoxicating early summer. She and I, in the purple flower sea, are wearing purple lace underwear, and the wind blows through the purple flower sea with a faint fragrance. Pure, affectionate and cheerful eyes, silvery laughter, and fragrant flowers are inseparable. Romance in memory, warmth behind it, and in the near future, the lights are dim. She is gone and her soul is in heaven. Will she look back on this beautiful friendship?
I look at the articles shining like pearls in the net sea, which are either as beautiful as poetry, as dreamy as dreams, as fragrant as flowers, or as vivid as the breath of life, the simplicity of rural people, the honesty and faithfulness of cattle, or the sadness of Liang Shanbo and Liang Shanbo, or writing a live broadcast of beautiful love, or watering a barren heart with tears, or telling endless love and yearning for lovers with your heart, or In their articles, I saw stories about life and emotions, how much joy, how much sadness, how much separation, how much disappointment, how much loneliness, how much joys and sorrows?
My words are full of green vitality and positive energy, but my brain suddenly short-circuited. Recalling those articles full of true feelings for me, I think that is enough. I don't want my words to bloom like spring, and everyone praises them; I don't beg my words to be as bright as summer; I don't beg my words to be as holy as winter snow and heaven, burning with white light.
In June, flowers bloom and fall, and the wind blows in clusters, swaying, looking like a beautiful girl dancing in a book, a court dancer, smiling, twisting her waist, dancing sleeves fluttering, like a fairy descending to earth, more beautiful than Chang 'e, dancing like Chang 'e. The half-palm-sized safflower is bright in color, beautiful in shape, smiling like a flower, showing off its charm, just like the galloping horse in A Dream of Red Mansions, attracting people with laughter, revealing its identity with laughter, and revealing its arrogant Xifeng with laughter. The white and elegant magnolia fell to the ground, picked it up and gently slid over the petals with your fingertips. The texture is light and smooth, and the nostrils exude a faint fragrance. The fragrance is faint, as if the flowers in the wing king umbrella are as beautiful as flowers and jade, and the heroic spirit is awe-inspiring. Thousands of soldiers were fascinated by her temperament from the inside out, and the heroine of all beings was drunk. The lotus in full bloom, with a hint of pink in its white skin color, dances with the wind, with a leisurely and graceful posture, and some are plump, like the plump Yang Guifei in The Drunken Lady; Some are slightly thin, like lotus fairies floating on the water. It is the dancing Chang 'e in Journey to the West.
In June, the sun is shining and the blue sky is washing. Looking at the blue sky, what are you imagining? Is it the pilot who performs flying stunts in the blue sky and sprays colorful smoke to draw a picture? Heart? Words, or a rose, or a ring, at this time, you think of your lover, thoughts rush in your mind, and the idea of proposing marriage becomes stronger. You look dashing in a military uniform. This is your honor. The motherland is as important as your lover. You write them a letter and love them in your heart. Sometimes, there are white clouds, some like galloping horses, some like a landscape painting, and some like vague words. Looking at the white clouds, what can you imagine? It is you who hold Ma Liang's pen and write down how vast and spectacular the grassland scenery is; Write how magnificent the Qian Shan waters of the motherland are; Write youth, ignorant Chun Qing.
When the sun goes down, Xia Hong fills the sky. The glow is a little dim, not as bright as it is on a sunny day, but it is beautiful and has a heavy feeling. Looking up at the branches in the distance, I caught the orange light. Walking alone on the road, facing such a lonely scene, I feel a little lonely. At this time, under the background of Xia Guang, an elderly couple came to me with crutches and helped each other. Their steps are slow and steady, their faces are calm and calm, and their smiles seem to accommodate everything in the world. A wrinkled face is full of vicissitudes. Perhaps, they wrote in their hearts: we have experienced so many ups and downs, and now we are happier than ever. Our grandparents and grandchildren have a happy family. Now we can live in peace. The greatest happiness is to look at our next generation and live happily. Our happiness is to rely on each other, warm each other and live a happy old age with peace of mind!
What do you think of when a crescent moon is high in the night sky? Is it an old mother far away, or a daughter who has emigrated abroad, or a heroic son who risked his life to catch drug dealers. The dark clouds dispersed, the moon was curved and round, and silver light was scattered all over the earth. Have you ever been on the other side of the moon, looking at the moon and crying? Mother's kind and wrinkled face is rippling in your tears. At this point, you can't hold back your inner excitement. Take out white writing paper and write down your deep thoughts about your mother with a pen.
In June, the rain wet my skirt. Lan Xuan, a chair, stretched out his hand and felt the coolness of the rain, and the tiny weight of the rain made him feel slightly sad. ? Indus rain hits banana, leaving a complaint? . A "song" tells how sad it is to find a marriage. Raindrops hit my heart. From then on, you and I are thousands of miles apart. Only Hongyan can pass the book, with deep feelings and thoughts, riding the wings of birds, all the way over the mountains, rain, snow and frost, across thousands of miles of melancholy, bringing love to your side and sending it into your heart.
In June, sunshine is interlaced, flowers are in full bloom, blue sky and white clouds, moon and stars, fine raindrops, different scenery, different moods, different moods, expressing different words, telling all kinds of joys and sorrows, and pinning all kinds of thoughts and hopes.
June, sunny weather, sunny mood; June, beautiful scenery, beautiful mind; June, shining night sky, shining wish; June, the time of raindrops, the dream of raindrops.
June is full of energy and fun. Write down the thoughts of Mercedes-Benz, write down the beautiful flowers, and write down the beautiful feelings bit by bit, just like the lotus pond in a prosperous time, full of dazzling lotus flowers.
What is long is the joy of tears, and beauty is the blooming of flowers. In the lonely midnight, drinking bitter coffee, I poured the clear spring of my soul on my long fingertips. Guarding your own world alone. Tears shed helplessly, but the feeling of dripping in words is an unspeakable pleasure. A gust of wind blew, and the curled water vapor entered my heart, which made me feel that this sweet and bitter taste was so clearly intertwined, rippling the lingering bitterness in my heart.
Accustomed to every morning, before the sun rises, I always walk through the dense fog, see flowers in the fog, look at the moon in the water, take a pair of leisurely steps and get a leisurely mood.
In the bustling lotus pond, there are my light footsteps, my beautiful figure and my bright eyes. Look at the endless blue water and blue sky, the imagination is galloping in my mind and floating in my pen. Clouds in the sky, white swimming, reflected in my heart lake, increased the freedom of coming and going.
Watch me gallop in the world of words, watch me run freely in the ocean of words, and watch me swim in the ocean of words. I live in the world of words, and I am very happy about it. I found the key to my heart, the long-lost happiness, and the satisfaction I have never had before.
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