Every time I open an ancient book, I feel that the author is because the text is exquisite. No matter how upset your heart is, you will settle down and feel the elusive emotions revealed in the author's clever words!
The foot of my bed is shining with such bright light. Is it frosty already? Looking up, I found it was moonlight, sinking again, and I suddenly remembered home. Li Bai's Thoughts on a Quiet Night should be the first poem I accepted. If you read this poem carefully, you may feel the originality of this poem: the word "frost" is used very skillfully, which not only expresses the bright moonlight, but also expresses the cold season, and also sets off the loneliness and desolation of the poet wandering abroad. And a word "Xiang" contains too much content, leaving people with endless imagination space.
This is the first poem that my grandmother wrote for me. It is ignorant, I don't know what it means.
"The white dew is frost, and the so-called Iraqis are on the water side." It was midsummer when grandma read this sentence. He rubbed my soft broken hair and smiled and read me a poem. At that time, I only felt that the sound was like rain hitting the rocks, and the sound was crisp and beautiful, so I pulled it up with my grandmother! Grandma said that this poem is wonderful, which makes us feel like we are in it. The rustling wind blew, and the curtains in Hunan swayed gently, like a woman wading and boating, making a slight noise. We can hear voices becoming clearer and stronger in men's hearts, such as playing drums.
But when I finished reading this poem completely, I suddenly looked back and the lights were dim-only I was left alone.
Grandma, you won't read me poetry now. Think of me as my precious memory. Maybe it's a fog in your head. The confused memory of your illness is washed away by your helpless and increasingly dull thinking and scared away by your ignorant behavior.
Grandma, if life is like the first time, let's go back. I will let you remember me, remember my smile, remember my love and attachment to you. Because the days with you are the days of poetry, and the Chinese studies in your heart accompany me to grow up!