Ba Jin’s prose is characterized by telling the truth, expressing true feelings, and using his true feelings to move others. Below is a collection of Ba Jin’s beautiful prose that I carefully compiled for you on Meiwen.com. I hope you like it!
Collection of Ba Jin’s Beautiful Prose 1: Sunrise on the Sea
In order to watch the sunrise, I often get up early. It was still dark at that time, and the surroundings were very quiet. There was only the sound of machinery on the ship.
The sky is still light blue, very light in color. In the blink of an eye, a red glow appeared on the horizon, slowly expanding its scope and strengthening its brightness. I knew the sun was about to rise from the sky, so I looked there without blinking an eye.
Sure enough, after a while, half of the sun's face appeared in that place. It was really red, but there was no light. The sun slowly worked hard to rise step by step, as if it was carrying a heavy load. In the end, it finally broke through the clouds and completely jumped out of the sea. Its color was very cute. In an instant, this dark red round thing suddenly emitted a dazzling light that made people's eyes hurt, and the clouds next to it suddenly became radiant.
Sometimes the sun walks into the clouds, but its light shines down from the clouds and directly onto the water. At this time, it was not easy to tell which was the water and which was the sky, because I only saw a bright light.
Sometimes there are dark clouds in the sky, and the clouds are very thick. When the sun comes out, the human eye cannot see it. However, the sun's rays radiating in the black clouds passed through the black clouds and set a luminous golden edge on the black clouds. Later, the sun slowly broke out of the encirclement and appeared in the sky, even dyeing the black clouds purple or red. At this time, it was not only the sun, clouds and sea water that shone brightly, but also myself.
Isn’t this a great spectacle?
Ba Jin’s Beautiful Prose Collection 2: Stars
I love the moonlit night, but I also love the starry sky. In the past, when I was enjoying the cool weather in the courtyard at night in July or August in my hometown, I loved to look at the densely packed stars in the sky. Looking at the stars, I will forget everything, as if I have returned to my mother's arms.
Three years ago, there was a back door where I lived in Nanjing. Every night when I opened the back door, I saw a silent night. Below is a vegetable garden, above is a blue sky filled with stars. Although starlight is tiny in our eyes, it makes us feel that light is everywhere. At that time, I was reading some books about astronomy, and I also recognized some stars, as if they were my friends and they were often talking to me.
Now at sea, facing the stars every night, I recognize them very well. I lay on the deck and looked up at the sky. There are countless half-bright stars hanging in the deep blue sky. The ship is moving, and the stars are moving too, and they are so low, so precarious! Gradually my eyes blurred, and I seemed to see countless fireflies flying around me. The night at sea is soft, quiet and dreamy. I looked at the many familiar stars, and I seemed to see them twinkling at me, and I seemed to hear them whispering. At this point I forgot everything. In the arms of the star, I smiled and fell asleep. I felt like a little child now sleeping in my mother's arms.
One night, the Englishman who got on the ship in Colombo pointed out to me the giant in the sky. He pointed with his hand: the four bright stars are the head, the lower ones are the body, these are the hands, those are the legs and feet, and the three stars are the belt. After his guidance, I really saw the giant in the sky clearly. Look, the giant is still running!
Ba Jin’s Beautiful Prose Collection 3: The Silent Garden
I didn’t hear the sound of the landlord’s dog. The garden is very quiet now. The unknown five-petal white flower is still blooming lonely. The sun shines on the pine branches and flower trees in the pots, painting the green leaves golden. The sky was clear, and I knew there was clear sky above me without raising my eyes.
Suddenly I heard the ringing of bells on the tile ditch. I raised my head and saw two squirrels slipping down from the tiles. These two little creatures were chasing each other on the pine branches for fun. Their big wool ball-like tails, their cute little black eyes, and the little bells on their necks attracted my attention. I just stared out the window. But they ran around two or three times, then returned to the roof tiles from the wisteria trellis, and disappeared in an instant, leaving me still with this quiet garden.
I just lowered my head and heard the chirping of the bird again. I looked again and saw a blue-gray white-headed bird standing on the osmanthus branch, raising its head and singing proudly. On the electric light wires on the roof, a pair of sparrows were chirping.
I don’t understand such language. But I heard a kind of leisurely happiness in the birdsong. What they want to tell me must be their joyful feelings. Unfortunately I can't answer them. I waved my hand and they flew away. My words cannot keep them, they leave me the silence of a garden. But I know they will come back after a while.
Now I feel like I am the only living thing in this garden. I sat at the desk and bent my head to write, and there was no sound to disturb me. I can just put my whole heart on the paper. But I gradually became irritated. The silence is like a hand slowly approaching my throat. I felt short of breath. It was an unnatural silence.
It was a harbinger of disaster, like the dull, still air before a rainstorm.
I seem to be waiting for something. I have an unsettled feeling and I can't calm down. I must be waiting for something. I'm waiting for the air-raid siren; or I'm waiting for the landlord's dog to bark. This means that the pre-warning has been cancelled, and no air-raid siren will sound. I don't have to prepare to lock the door when I hear the shrill whistle (air-raid siren). door out. In the past half month, warnings on sunny days have become almost routine.
But my waiting has no result. The birds came back and left again; the squirrels also came once, but ran up to the roof in pursuit, and I don't know where they disappeared. A burst of crows came from the roof of the front building that I couldn't see. These little creatures don't know anything about the world, and they won't bring me any information.
As I was writing the above paragraph, the air raid siren went off. My wait was indeed not in vain. At this time I felt the air moving. I heard the sound of cars on the street outside the alley. I heard the sound of the plane's engine again. This was probably a civilian aircraft flying out to avoid the sirens. Sometimes our destroyers will line up and fly out at this time, waiting to attack enemy aircraft. I couldn't write anymore, so I took a book, locked the garden door, and hurried outside.
After a terrible crowd at the city gate, I finally reached the outskirts. I stayed there for more than two hours, hanging out with a few friends and eating the lunch they took out on the grass. After the alarm was lifted, I came back, unlocked the door, and pushed open the garden door. What greeted me was still the silence of a garden.
I returned to the room, returned to the desk, opened the glass window, and looked out the window before continuing to write. The trees, the ground, and the whole garden are filled with sunshine. A clump of Guanyin bamboo in the corner fluttered their pointed leaves slightly. A big fly flew into the room through the open window with a buzzing sound and circled over my head. A crow or two crowed somewhere out of my sight. A small yellow butterfly flutters among the white flowers. Suddenly, a strange sound came from the tiles on the opposite roof, and the two squirrels slipped down from the high wall and along the iron drip pipe. They ran to the wooden frame supporting the pine tree, and then ran to the stone railing of the pool with the rockery at the foot of the frame. They chased there for a while, then ran along the wooden frame and up the pine branches, hiding behind the pine leaves. The pine leaves moved, the twigs of the laurel tree also moved, and a green bird just rested on it.
I still can’t hear the dog’s voice. I turned to the right to look at the narrow, sunless passage. The small door of the landlord's house was tightly closed. There is no sound there at these times. Probably the family went outside the city early in the morning to hide from the alarm, and they haven't come back yet. I'm afraid they will come back when the sun sets. The fat yellow dog must have "evacuated" with them, otherwise the sound of a dog scratching at the door would have reached my ears.
I sat in front of the window again and wrote these many words. Still only the cries of crows and birds accompany me. The buzzing of flies has long since ceased. Now there was the sound of mice gnawing in the corner of the house again. They all sounded and fell silent. I felt lonely in this city threatened by bombings.
However, like a knife about to cut through the clear sky, the loud machine sound suddenly sounded. This is our own aircraft. The sound was so majestic that it swept away the silence of the garden. I want to put down my pen and go to the courtyard to look at the sky and see those big gray dragonflies shining in the blue sky with golden sunlight on their backs. What a beautiful sight it was.