The Voice of the Night Modern Prose 1 You feel the truth of life in the atmosphere at home, and you have insomnia in the middle of the night. This is not an era when men need to raise their broadswords and shout to kill the enemy. But this is still an era when heroes are needed to influence the world. I've seen a lot of calculations to preserve our sanity, and I'm used to talking about a few copper coins. This is an era when utility is higher than career, and how many skeletons are covered by power. Don Quixote's battle with the windmill always leads to more jokes, but that persistence encourages generation after generation of innocence and idealism and rushes forward without hesitation. It is they who promote social progress and safeguard social justice, and at the same time they are laughed at by the normal thoughts of normal society again and again.
But they never copy. From method to thought.
I've had a lot of arguments about right and wrong, and I've suffered many times for my goal.
Believe in your uniqueness. But I believe in my down-to-earth struggle.
For society, that is, for yourself.
Swallows in my hometown
I have been busy for almost three weeks, that is, the construction site and Beijing. Last week on Mother's Day, I bought cooked meat for a long time and went to my hometown to see my parents. In the afternoon, I went to Sansheng Temple in Shimenkou, Huixian with my daughter-in-law. This Sunday, I was supposed to have dinner with my children, but I was absent at noon because of the company.
At 8 o'clock in the evening, I walked out of the unit and didn't have dinner with the driver Kun. While walking, I contacted my daughter-in-law and asked her if she wanted to eat together. Daughter-in-law said: I was tired all afternoon and didn't wash clothes or eat dinner at night. "Then let's eat together, and you go out now," I told her.
Sitting in a snack street in the city, I saw a faint crescent moon rising in the southwest, and the wind was crossing the street slightly. I ordered Mapo tofu from Sichuan, fried its wings, and ordered the famous Sichuan-style fish claimed by the store. The driver ordered his favorite drink, while my wife and I ordered two bottles of beer.
I seldom talk when I eat, but sitting on the street, I can have a quiet and shallow drink with my daughter-in-law, and I am a little leisure. Over the years, I have made demands on my life: that is, life needs leisure.
On Mother's Day, my daughter-in-law and I drove through the countryside of our hometown. I saw a swallow that I hadn't seen for years flying over the wheat field. I know she doesn't want to engage in art, but to catch this bug for a living. After I came back, I thought, aren't we just swallows in these hometowns? The seemingly handsome figure is actually the hardship of starting a business. Happiness is only a symbol in life.
We are all swallows in life, swallows who usually work. Although there is a dream, it is still real.
The Sound of Night Modern Essay 2 The night is rich and the moonlight is bright. It is quiet from the top of the moon for no reason, such as silk, like a waterfall, splashing on the night sky, turning into halo after halo, dizzy in people's hearts, igniting a little bit of loneliness and sadness.
The tense nerves in the brain relaxed at this moment. I am not sleepy. I can only open my eyes in the dark. In front of me, it was dark. I reached out my hand to my eyes, and there was only a dark image in front of me. You can see it at night, but you can't touch it. The moonlight shines on the wall, and the hand shadow becomes clearer and clearer.
In the city that never sleeps, people may still shuttle through the traffic, and the bar is full of colorful lights. The dim light fixed people's vague shadows in a dark corner, and glasses of wine ignited people's little drunkenness. At this moment, the chaotic human nature is exposed. In the casino, the only reason left by people disappeared under the burning of bright red color, leaving only a pair of greedy blind eyes and a black eye on the green card table.
Countless people are lost in this night, but they don't know that after this night, the dawn is coming, and they fall into an endless abyss in regret and disappointment. A few ragged beggars may be lying in the corner of a tall building, and a few dollars are placed in an open iron box next to a broken quilt to show their little dignity. Despair in their eyes is the most sighing thing in the world. Next to the subway station, among the bustling crowd, there may be several wandering artists who are singing with their life's strength. They play the most beautiful music with only a broken guitar. People listened with relish. At the end of the song, the crowd began to applaud.
At night, the most ruthless person may show the warmest eyes at the moment he sees his loved ones, the most optimistic person may become a little negative and sad, and the strongest person may show his weakness.
The sound of the night is a heartfelt greeting when a warm-hearted sentence rings; The sound of the night is the shattering sound of the cup falling to the ground and being knocked over by the hand; The sound of the night is also the sad sound of crystal tears slowly sliding down the cheeks and splashing down.
The fog soaked everything, leaving crystal dew, as if it were the purest symbol in the world.
At night, everything was swallowed up, leaving nothing.
The busiest street corner has its moments of depression, and the most active mind has its moments of desolation.
No one can keep happiness for a moment, and no one can keep happiness for a lifetime. Life is not always smooth sailing. Usually, there are pains and scars hidden under the beautiful appearance. When it is suddenly torn, maybe the previous happiness and happiness will be the catalyst for your tears at this time.
Night is realistic.
On such a night, I can quietly put my soul in a wonderful and quiet sky to feel something.
The stars are weaving and flashing, and the night sky is woven into an invisible net, which covers my full feelings. As long as I look up, the smile of every star melts in my lost years, telling the feelings of reunion after a long separation.
Standing on the balcony of the old house, listening to the frogs in the rain, listening to the dogs barking in the country, swaying in the fields, and then quietly dissipating in the dense notes of insects and frogs. Some winds, with moist fragrance, blow into my body, and my soul is like floating in a dream. A pool of water, with gentle ripples under the starlight, extends to the depths of the night in the form of diffusion. My dream is moistened by crystal dew in the middle of the night. A tree blossoms, a piece of fragrance, and the melody is in my heart. In the notes, circles of footsteps floated with the wind, gently floating in the middle of the night in the country, gently holding up the dream in my heart.
I'm sure this is not a dream. My dream has been pinned on my soul for countless times during the long wandering time in the high-rise buildings of foreign cities, and expressed in my expected hope. I am loyal to real life and willing to be buried in the neon lights flashing all over the sky, confused in the crowded and noisy crowd, and drowned in the distant drifting by the long flute sound of the street.
For a long time, I met such a quiet country night, and my body and mind were relaxed and refreshed. At this moment, my life seems to be still in a simple and gentle peace, listening to the warmth of inner agitation and jumping affectionately. It's just the beautiful feeling of this moment. Besides the stars falling like rain, there are some sounds of insects chirping and frogs croaking, and the fragrance surging with the wind in the night, which makes me feel a little lost in the soft and quiet night. An indescribable complex confusion immediately welled up in my mind. Are you tired after wandering for a long time? Or is it the inspiration that life must be attributed to silence after experiencing prosperity? Or countless guilty thoughts? I can't say clearly, and I don't know the way, which makes a complicated and frantic feeling collide with my soul and make my mood complicated and confused.
Suddenly I remembered a poem "On the Defense Line of Mother Tongue/Strange Homesickness/Dying Rose". A man wrote such a lonely poem in Yunnan and Pei. It touched me and reminded me of my departure. It was a spring, and I was so excited that I could leave the country the next day and enter the dream of youthful blood. The next day, when my parents sent me out of a one-kilometer country road, I stepped on the bus to the railway station, feeling as excited as a fog. Finally, I left my parents' sight, the flowery countryside behind me and got into the car. At that time, my heart was extremely excited and happy. The reason is very simple, because I have crossed the familiar and simple rural land, and the bright sunshine in spring is in front of me. Tonight, when I once again compare my mood when I left this country, I have to say: It's cruel to compare with this mood now.
Wandering for many years, I have never felt a kind of peace of mind and sureness like this, and I feel that my body and mind are surrounded by a warm airflow. Even at night in a foreign city, looking up at the starry sky and the bright moon or the rolling green hills on the horizon every day, I have never felt an unparalleled spiritual happiness like this. I often ask myself, what did I get when I left home? It suddenly dawned on me that what I got was the trophy of life reality, and what I lost was something that could appease my spiritual happiness, that is, simplicity and simple beauty.
Under the dim light, the water in the pond is still smiling in the night, and the original and simple local accent and silver light are jumping. Look at the grass branches in the breeze. Some dewdrops fall quietly, nourishing the touch of another country night. A shadow stands on the balcony in an isolated posture, and some feelings of the years meet with the countryside tonight. The blood flowing in my heart, and the long night spent in the country.
The Voice of the Night Modern Prose 4 woke up in the middle of the night, facing the boundless world, the darkness turned into a thick wall, which made me breathless. I hit hard with my fist, but it didn't mean anything;
Kick hard with your feet, it will always be yourself;
Then pull it quietly with your hand, hoping to get a little warm return from it. Why not have silky lubrication? ...
Therefore, I always look forward to the dawn, or there is a light on, even if it is a very weak light!
Can also let the dim light lead me forward and ignite my eternal hope; Then use this fire to draw a beautiful picture of longing for the fire of starting a prairie fire.
But this moment can never come.
In this thick black fog, the opening and closing of the eyes is meaningless, and the hands and feet have lost their functions.
"Everyone is drunk, I woke up alone?" -this is just a kind of self-comfort and inner lament.
The real courage is to dare to face the darkness, to be above it, and to look for opportunities to break through it!
Yes, different lives have to face many different nights and take many different detours. This is an unfair fact! But it's right in front of everyone.
In order to realize the ideals and goals of youth, some people will sneak around, some people will have a winding path, some people will have a bright future, and some people will give up their wishes and pursuits because they see the long night, with neither sparks nor full moon.
Oh, only by lighting the eternal lamp in my heart, in this boundless night, in this boundless sea of people,
Let the heart-like the owl's eyes, keenly prey and clearly distinguish the direction of soaring in the night sky. ...
Only in this way can we fearlessly face all the darkness and all the fears, proudly soar above the night and cold current, and welcome the rising sun, victory and dawn. ...
The Sound of the Night Modern Essay 5 The gloom tonight shows that there are no stars and no moon. The wind blew violently and shook the leaves violently.
I am walking in the autumn wind, with my arms outstretched and my palms cold.
Such a night is also the most suitable for singing softly. The song is submerged in the wind, and the defects of the song are also submerged by the roar of the wind.
Leaves often fall, with a little regret, but the autumn wind is not silent, accompanied by leaves.
If you feel a little sleepy during the day, you will sit on a stool when you are free, let your arms droop naturally, close your eyes and think about some boring questions. I think I have seen too many unsolved mysteries. I often think in my questions: What would the world be like without the earth, the universe and the Milky Way?
In the process of walking in the autumn wind, I completely forgot the cold. If this question is boring, even if there is no answer, I will usually carry it out or modify it, which is a bit of a spirit of entertaining myself. Now I think: What would the world be like without autumn, autumn wind, big trees and pedestrians?
People ask me what I like, and I say I like freedom. When I was tied up, I was in pain. But sometimes I long for bondage, and bondage may be another kind of freedom.
I lack presence, but I hate grandstanding. I often tell myself in my heart not to show it and to be a low-key person.
It's windy, but I can't see. I want to be a strong wind. At this time, the wind-like spirit of freedom will be there, even if it is Don Quixote-like ignorance.
I put my hand out of the dark night sky, and the wind continued to blow, blow, blow away the faint, imaginary sadness, and the rest was all joy.
Headlights are blurred, and walking on the road is like being in a dark and lonely surreal realm. People fantasize about countless wonderful times, but they don't know how to grasp them.
I think of the cheerful recess bell during the day, Yang Shulin I have seen many times, the yellow leaves under the tree, the white clouds in the clear sky and the lively and steaming snacks in the market. The colder the wind, the more I can remember the warmth my mother made when I was a child. Think of many beautiful things. Along the way, like a short-distance traveler, my thoughts drift wherever I go.
What a boring note in the new year wind, as long as it has been precipitated by time, it is a good memory.
Leaves wither, but there is freedom. Watching the leaves fall and listening to the leaves touch the earth, I hummed the lyrics, Wu Bai's "White Dove": At least I am free. ...
Leaves are sad, falling like butterflies, but only in this way can trees have a happy winter. The autumn wind is unruly, but it is eager to bloom.
The cold autumn wind is beautiful, so joy needs to be expressed. I want to pick up the rolling pin, then the washbasin and sing happily.