The language expression skills of recitation are actually the application of restraint, elevation, pause, frustration, lightness, emphasis, slowness and urgency in intonation. Specifically, it includes pauses, stress, tone and rhythm. , speaking speed, etc. Below I have compiled a beautiful reading of "It's Dawn" for your reading reference.
Beautiful article reading at dawn, recital chapter 1
After a busy day, the card players slowly dispersed in my house, from lively to deserted, dragging my tired body , lying on the bed, my lonely soul seemed to be torn into pieces. I was like a wounded lamb in the dark, slowly licking my wounds.
During the day, in front of everyone, I pretended to be strong with a happy smile on my face. Who knows, I was hiding my loneliness; hiding my sadness; hiding my sadness; my smile was so down. Mo. In the silent night, my heart seemed to be slowly being swallowed up. When I thought about the difficulties in life, I couldn't sleep again. When I thought about the long dark night, I felt scared. When I was afraid, I felt cold and chilly. I just feel like crying. In front of others, I am so strong. I don't want others to see my fragility and heartbreak. I feel like a helpless child. I cry out all my grievances and feel much better. When I have insomnia or can't sleep, I pick up a pen and slowly record my mood to capture the inspiration for writing. All said. People who love writing are lonely; they are also sentimental people; they also have a kind heart.
I heard the chirping of birds and the sound of pedestrians walking on the road. I knew that it was dawn and the light was coming again. Although the long dark night was so difficult, I still got through it. In my heart, I felt stronger. From now on, I will no longer be afraid of the dark night, it will always pass. After the dark night, there will be light; there will be hope. At dawn, I saw the dawn of life. The light of hope drove away the haze of my soul, and I felt as if my soul had been cleansed. It's dawn, and I feel like I'm a little more mature and have a little more insight into life. I will not pretend to be strong anymore, but tell myself that to be truly brave, the difficulties of life are not terrible, as long as our hearts can be brave.
At dawn, I still face life with a smile. Stop pretending and really smile. Smile so much that others will envy you. Smile so much that others will be jealous. I want to be a person who never admits defeat!
p>
Beautiful Reading Reading at Dawn Chapter 2
Good night, time; good night, city; good night, words. At dawn, I still want to say good night, just because I have fallen asleep with time and words in this city.
——Inscription
Good night, time
Quiet and beautiful time, who allows someone a peaceful life?
In the depths of time, memory The ancient city walls are mottled, and the vicissitudes of life have fallen to the ground. Those distant thoughts, in the gap between time and dreams, sadly breed deep moss, gradually rusting the quiet beauty of those years. The past of those old days gently passed through the window screen in front of my eyes, turning into wisps of green smoke, dyeing the beautiful face of this life.
I don’t know when time will rain. Open an umbrella in the misty rain and walk in the drizzle. Quietly listen to the beating melody of raindrops, watch the rainwater lingering in the stamens of the flowers, pick up a petal moistened by the rain, and gently smell the fragrance of the flowers soaked in the mist and rain. Pieces of soft crimson fell to the ground, as if they were sleeping with heavy hatred, or like light and pure angels accidentally falling into the world, scattering their dark thoughts in the mist-like drizzle.
At the end of time, when the desolation and vicissitudes of life have replaced all the green youthfulness, and the thin dark green sleeves flutter in the wind, the deep nostalgia in those fleeting years will have no support. His obscure eyes were suddenly filled with tears, because nothing would be immortal if he was separated from the world. Looking back again, it was just mist and deep ink.
Flowers bloom all over the city, warming up the season and passing by. No matter how deep the sadness is, there is always a fragrance of flowers, hidden deep in the depths of time, never annihilated by the flowing water. Perhaps the vows in the first half of my life were like the fragrance of flowers that filled my sleeves, but now can I pass through the smoke and mist of my life and make my pen and ink fragrant?
Loneliness is like fireworks, and the passage of time cannot be cut off. I know that time is a beauty. When I raise my hand, rub ink, and draw my eyebrows, the green silk is like black and the willow eyebrows are like paintings. Time is not old, and longing is naturally not old, but what about people? Will they also become desolate with the rainy season? After thousands of twists and turns, the beauty will never end, and the agarwood will be half old. The past time disappears, and the picturesque passing time has just begun.
In the beautiful time, with the fragrance of roses along the way, a series of warm and peaceful scenes are unfolded. The scenery along the way is fresh and natural, which touches my heartstrings. I still remember that year, the blue sky, the air was fresh and fragrant, the bright sunshine danced on my fingertips, and the happiness of meeting a rose flower was shy and lingering.
I know that happiness is just the time for a flower to bloom, and even the process is so delicate and gentle. In which year, the bright red flowers bloomed beautifully and warmed my obscure eyes? Even now, when I remember it again, it is still so warm.
It is impossible to predict the time. You will often feel sad because a flower blooms, and you will also feel happy because a flower blooms. Either envy, or jealousy, but fortunately, at least on this bright day, they lived up to it, such an enchanting time, graceful and charming, blooming enchantingly.
I know that the blooming of flowers is an interpretation of illusion. Whether sad or happy, it is the most beautiful tenderness in the passing years.
I can’t keep time, so, good night, time. I know that in such a quiet and beautiful time, my happiness has just begun.
Good night, city
This city, a trace of time, has so many warm memories for me.
I often think of a city and a person, which is the heartache of my life. I also often think of a city, a grand fireworks, and the burned loneliness. There is too much hidden in this city, too much unknown loneliness, too much deep loneliness.
I often think of a season of cherry blossoms, a season of flying cherry blossoms. Because under the cherry blossom tree, I once met a woman who looked like a cherry blossom in this city. Her smile was very pure and had the smell of cherry blossoms.
There are too many beautiful things in the prosperous youth, and they are all spent in this city. This city has gone through vicissitudes of life, but it remains the same, as usual, unchanged. Although people in this city grow old and die every day, it has never grown old, let alone died.
In the city in my eyes, a carved smoke clings to the willow trees, lingering and blurring in the wind. Just like a beauty made of jasper, dragging a long ribbon and dancing with the clear blue shadow. Through the blue glass, you can see the clear water of a lake in the distance, with ripples rippling in the wind, like futons embroidered with lotus flowers growing out of the water, opening and closing here and there.
Green ribbons with snow, and frost dyed red, this city, no matter how many years pass, remains the same, as quiet and beautiful as ever. But the people who met each other wandered around. After all, a city is not a place to settle down for life. Often, after just one encounter, they all settle down in the world.
I know that fate is like a slender cotton thread that passes through me and then sews me up stitch by stitch, leaving no gap in my life. Following the footsteps of fate, after a thousand twists and turns, what you get in the end is loneliness.
In this world, there are too few things that remind me of things, and there are too many things that I have forgotten. In this city, there are many boys who taught me how to grow, and many girls who taught me how to love. They are all angels in my life, but they disappear easily. But I believe that one day, I will meet more angels and teach me more things.
In this city, I will meet more angels and learn more things. I will know that encounter heralds separation. No matter how beautiful the encounter is, looking back, it is just a dream. What if, in my floating life, I can help you in your dreams? I don’t know.
In a city, there will always be memories that will warm you throughout your life. However, memories are just memories after all. No matter how beautiful they are, you can never go back. Instead of remembering, it is better to cherish, cherish every person you meet by chance, cherish every sunrise and sunset, cherish a kiss, cherish a cloud. Learn to cherish, so this city can leave more than just loneliness.
The city will still be a city when the sun comes up, but good night, city. I will still be in this city, guarding my original excitement and joy.
Good night, words
Beautiful words are my deepest expectation for this fleeting year.
I am used to dancing with words, even though there will be endless melancholy that comes with loneliness. On the gorgeous stage set up by words, I feebly performed some people and some things, either sad or happy.
I picked up a flower, and the fragrance was wrapped around my fingertips. The messy words were mixed into poetry and rain in the fragrance. It exudes a clear and cold temperament, transforming into the nostalgia and pure beauty deep in the clouds and water. The thoughts dyed with splashes of ink are like lotus flowers, being blown away bit by bit. The years hidden in the stamens are pushed aside in the petals, revealing the freshness of life.
Words are explored in loneliness, words are accumulated in sadness, and words are revealed in happiness. Words are the remembrance of life, calling out the beauty, loneliness, sadness, or happiness that has been forgotten by the old times. Thousands of emotions decorate the words, endless gorgeous words dress the sentiments beautifully, the window lattice of memory, that clean pure white, is the endless waiting in the fleeting years.
Living in the world as a guest, swimming through endless fate and evil. I only hope that the words can be as beautiful and elegant as dreams. I only hope that the proud and beautiful women described in my works can have an elegant and pure temperament, be as beautiful as pure and refined, and be as calm as water and as clear as a lotus. Set up a square of bluestone under the bodhi tree, cut a piece of candlelight, light up the economic affairs, believe in fate, and believe in eachother's oath. I only wish that the women I write about are like this, and do not eat the smoke and fire of the world.
But youth is just right, youth is just right, but my writing is still too immature. Jerky words can hardly outline those warm and song-like pictures of youth. Thinking too much, enchanting words appear on the fingertips, jumping in the sun, and then rosemary in the fragrance of flowers. I wish that the beauties in my paintings would always look as beautiful and innocent as when I first met them, as pure and transparent as the moonlight in the glass porcelain.
The fragrant writing, word for word, is an explanation of one's own emotions, and is also the best interpretation of love and fate. However, the shy words are as innocent as mine. My heart is too young to bear too many vicissitudes of life, but there is too much loneliness buried deep in my heart.
Who said that youth is a bright sadness, the more loneliness, the less happiness? Time is like a cup of fragrant tea, the light fragrance and elegance make people drink hangover. "Take this flower bush and look back lazily, half destined to practice Taoism and half destined to be you.
"Does the heart have thoughts, then the words will also have thoughts?
In silence, I write my own beautiful words, which are very warm and pure. Many years later, when I am old, There are also words that record everything I have, and those emotions deep in my heart will be awakened, and I will feel less lonely.
I love words as much as I love my words. Woman. Because of words, I am not so lonely, because of words, I am not so sad, and because of words, I am happy.
Words are my deepest attachment, so good night, words. At dawn, I still want to say good night. In my dream, there are my most beautiful words.