Weicheng is rainy and dusty, and the guest house is green and willow.
Sincerely advise friends to drink a glass of wine, and it is difficult to meet their loved ones when they go out to Yang Guan in the west.
The drizzle in the morning wet the floating dust of the acropolis; The hotel with blue bricks and green tiles, surrounded by willows, is particularly fresh and clear. Please come to the farewell bar again; If you walk out of Yangguan and go west, you may never see anyone you know again.
[rewrite]
On the banks of the Weihe River, the water waves overflowed slightly, the ancient city was faint, the apricot blossoms were misty and rainy, and the exhaustion of the night was swept away by the rain. The light dust on the road flooded the whole city and wet it in this rain and fog. Whose homesickness is this?
Holding an oil-paper umbrella, walking on the bluestone road in the rain, full of reluctance and persuasion, but relatively speechless, unable to speak, let that silent care melt in this wind and blow into your heart. Beside the ancient pavilion, the breeze blows the green wicker. Who are the raindrops on the wicker falling for?
Friend, please have another drink of this mellow bar in your hometown and remember the familiar local accent. The wine in my hometown is a distant song, and the longer it is, the more intoxicating it becomes; The song of my hometown is a flute in Qingyuan, which always rings with the moon at night. In a foreign land, when you feel lonely, just look at the moon floating across your hometown. There will always be a local flavor to soothe your wandering heart.
Play a song "Song of the Acropolis" for you with the blessing of your palm. Transparent strings vibrate under slender fingers, shaking off the frost on your face. Whose tears are as sweet as spring? Whose sigh is so melancholy in the face of the smoke from the thin horse on the ancient road?
Fold a willow leaf for you, put it in a heavy bag, and accompany you out of the sunshine in the west, so that there are traces of your hometown in your footprints. When the spring breeze on the acropolis lake turns green, let this bright moon and a willow tree guide you home. "Looking back at my hometown, there is a long way to go." Horseshoe gallops, dust flies, and your back is drifting away. However, someone looked at your back by the Liu Liu Bridge and refused to turn around. ...
Blessing and parting are like drizzle soaking the long years, leaving a few feelings and thoughts. The wind blows up the dust in a foreign land, and it can't wash away the vicissitudes of your face because of missing, and it can't wash away the feelings of being close to home!
The bell rang in the distance, and the past was like yesterday, holding a fresh green willow-you were there, I was here-whispering!
comment
The article is vivid when presenting the picture of the original poem. For example, "walking on the bluestone road in the rain with an oil-paper umbrella, full of reluctance and full of charge", a "hug" and a "step", the helplessness and reluctance of farewell will come to the fore. Another example is "beside the ancient pavilion, the willow is blown by the breeze, and the rain beads on the willow leaves are for whom to leave." While presenting the picture of the original poem "Facing the Rain" and "Willow Color", I also wrote the sentiment in the poem, which is really touching. Of course, it is reasonable and poetic for the author to imagine the fictional plot of reunion and fear of returning in 2008.
Bai Juyi in Ode to Mujiang
A sunset gradually sank into the river, half green and half green.
On the third night of September, the dew is like a pearl and the moon is like a bow.
[rewrite] The sun sets, and the afterglow of the setting sun is scattered all over the earth. The sun took off its dazzling coat and put on a bright red shawl. It is so soft and beautiful! The clear river is like a mirror, shining in the corner of the light. When the breeze blows, water waves appear on the river, and the reflection of sunlight vibrates, just like a girl dancing in the water.
The weeping willows by the river put their long hair into the water, like a beautiful princess, twisting her slender waist and putting a green skirt on the shore, compared with the sunshine in the water. Unfortunately, they didn't name the winner, but reflected the river half red and half green, like a huge palette.
Although the flowers on the riverside are not so graceful, they always exude charming fragrance.
I stood on the rock and looked around. The mountains in the distance were looming in the fog, which was extremely mysterious. The brightly lit villages with snuff are like swarms of fireflies, and the hazy fog connects the river, the earth and the sky. Ah! September 3rd, what a beautiful night! Birds are singing in front of the mountain, and the fruit in the field is fragrant; Dewdrops are like crystal pearls; The hidden moon is like a beautiful bow, even the fallen leaves are full of praise, and the wind is singing hymns.
I love you, this intoxicating twilight river!
[opinion]
Ancient landscape poems should mainly describe the scenery and grasp its characteristics. When writing a scene, there should be true feelings between the lines and express true feelings. Emotion and scenery are inseparable, and it is an important means to create artistic conception to contain emotion in scenery, melt emotion in scenery and melt scenery in scenery. A good practice should avoid the scenery without emotion, let emotion become scenery, and scenery become emotional notes. Only when the two fit perfectly can the article be subtle and meaningful.
Rewrite Li Qingzhao's Wuling Spring Festival Evening
The wind has stopped the dust, the fragrant flowers have blossomed, and I am tired of combing my hair at night.
Things are people, not everything, and tears flow first.
It is said that Shuangxi Spring is still good, and it is also planned to make canoes.
I'm afraid the ship can't carry much worry.
The spring breeze stopped, all the flowers fell, and the flowers turned into fragrant dust. It's getting late, I'm too lazy to comb my hair. The scenery remains the same, but the people are different. It's all over. If you want to tell your troubles, your tears have already fallen first.
I heard that Shuangxi Spring is good, and I plan to take a canoe to see it. I'm just afraid that the boat floating on the Shuangxi River can't carry much sadness. The sun has set, and today will pass again. And you still haven't combed your gray bun, even though it is so messy. You sit at the window, frowning, and your cheeks are covered with dry tears.
[Rewrite] The wind outside the window has stopped and the petals are scattered all over the floor, but the flowers still exist in the dust. "Flowers are similar year after year, and people are different year after year." Tears fall from your eyes again. Sentimental Li Yian, are you being kind to the withered flowers and the remnants of England everywhere? Maybe they touched your sadness again? The pain of national mourning, the pain of family destruction and the pain of husband's death are entangled in your heart. "If you keep cutting, the reason is still chaos, it is sadness, and you have a different taste in your heart." Faced with this scene, you can only share the bitterness alone. Every time I think about it, tears roll down, and you still fall down on the table in tears-
Suddenly, you remember listening to your friend say that Shuangxi River is a good place to play with birds and flowers, and the sun is shining. You are going to swim there by canoe to relieve your worries. Suddenly, you sigh: "I'm afraid the ship can't carry much." How sad is your heart? Li Yu wrote down the length of sadness: "How much sadness can you have, just like a river flowing eastward." Li Bai wrote the superposition of sadness: "But since the water is still flowing, although we cut it with a sword, sadness will come back, even though we drown them with wine." But sadness is in your heart, but it has such a weight and weighs heavily on your heart.
In a flash, you are crying again!
Rewrite a night-mooring near maple bridge Zhang Ji
Crows fell on the moon, crowed coldly, slept on maple trees, and slept in fishing lanes by the river.
In the lonely Hanshan Temple outside Suzhou, the bell that rang in the middle of the night reached the passenger ship.
[Rewrite] He was speechless and lost sleep. He has been numb to the difficulties of seeking fame, but the real sadness is buried deep in his heart-he dare not recall it.
On this fisherman's boat, he lies with an empty heart. The river is lonely, patting the boat and complaining in a low voice. He is lonely, too! There is no unexpected parade of lanterns, only the suffering and missing of family members. This kind of loneliness can only be pinned on the fisherman's old yellow fishing lamp, but the flashing light makes him feel more cordial. A few years ago, my mother was sitting in this light, with dim eyes, sewing him clothes for a long trip. at present ...
"
Mother ... alas, "he sighed. I want to cry, only to find that I have no tears. This life is doomed to failure, even sleeping and crying can't succeed. He just turned over and walked out of the cabin. I want to sink my sore heart into the bottom of the lake, and the river echoes the layers of fog, sadly covering up the tears of the river. It turns out that he is not only so sad in the world, but even the lifeless river is crying.
He looked up and through the mist on the river, vaguely saw a sad figure on the other side. What is that? -Jiang Feng, who was originally graceful, was heartbroken by people's heavy acacia worries. And those little lights-the fisherman's-were pale and full of wind and frost by the fisherman's hard life. And the whole dark riverbank, like the hometown that I miss day and night, weighs heavily on his mind. The bell of Hanshan Temple in the distance passed through the layers of fog and reached his ears, shaking his heart-who was burning incense and worshiping Buddha for his loved ones?
It turns out that the world is sad not only because of the unsatisfactory official career, but also because of the hardships of life and the lovesickness of relatives.
Time passed slowly, and he watched the alternation of night and morning. The moon falls quietly, and the crow cries sadly to break the sky. He quietly watched the new day rotate with the present and quietly welcomed the new day of life. "Fisherman, turn around," he said quietly.
"You're not going to see Yin Fu in Liangjiang, are you?" Asked the fisherman.
"Go home, I'm not going anywhere. Relatives, look at two Jiangyin mansions, "he said quietly, though incoherently.
[2]' Immortal Insomnia' Zhang Xiaofeng.
He failed the list! 1200 years ago. However, the list is big and long, but there is no his name. Ah! Unexpectedly, his name "Zhang Ji" cannot be accommodated alone.
The names of the people who took the exam are all written on the list, which is known all over the world. Strangely, in his feeling, it is well known that he failed in the exam, which made him feel ashamed and depressed.
Leave Beijing! After negotiating the price, he set foot on the boat. This is not the expected plot. There might have been an affair of arranging flowers and stepping on the street, and there was the glory of returning home in splendor. However, after ten years of cold window, although he was a thorn in his side, he didn't have a corner seat at Qionglin banquet.
The ship is sailing like the wind.
Jiang Feng is like a fire, holding a cold flame on the shore. At dusk, the ship arrived in Suzhou. However, this beautiful ancient city is just another place that touches Zhang's sad feelings.
If there is anything to do during the day, for a scholar, it is reading! What about at night? You should go to bed at night to keep your mental state and watch it the next day. However, tonight is a sad night. Tonight, in a foreign land, by the river, in the season of autumn cold and high geese, allow a down-and-out taxi to indulge his sadness. The river can hold the tears of all unfortunate people indefinitely.
On such a night, I sat cruelly, listening to the sound of my heart being bitten by something and disappearing one by one. And look at your life like a residual lamp in a strong wind. All your strength is spent on resistance, the oil is running out, and the small fire may go out all the time. However, what is hateful is that it has never been gorgeous and brilliant in its life!
The river slept, the boat slept, the boatman slept, and the people on the shore slept. Only he, Zhang Ji, can't sleep. The deeper the night, the more awake I am, awake like a dead tree with fallen leaves, like an empty nest beam where I went.
At first, sleep rejected him. Let nature take its course, haven't you been rejected everywhere in your life? ) Then, he got angry. Well, if you don't sleep, you won't sleep If you wake up all night, you will simply take a thorough look at yourself. Why not?
The moon is slanting to the west, looking listless. There is a crow, rough and hoarse. It is a crow. The moon was darkened by its frequent cries. On the river bank, I think it's frost grass. The stars in the night sky are like clear frost, and the grains are desolate.
In the corner of his beard and brow, he felt as if he were cold and gloomy, waiting for the frosty flowers in early autumn to decorate his bleak young face.
Fishing and fire on the river two three, what are they doing? Fishing, right, or shrimp? Do they also cast nets? Times are hard! Even a clever fisherman can't help jumping into the storm, can't he? However, hard work is also a kind of happiness! Tonight, the moon is bright, the frost is cool, the people at ease are sleeping, and the people at work go to work. Only I, Zhang Ji, don't accept anything. I have neither the right to work nor the right to sleep. ...
The bell rang, the strange late-night bell of Hanshan Temple. Generally, drums and morning bells are ringing in temples, and the "midnight bell" in Hanshan Temple is shaking the earth. The bell is near the water. For others, the sound is just the vague background music in their sleep. However, in him, one by one hit the heart, right in the middle. The bell is beautiful, but does it hurt? He couldn't sleep, so he pushed the pillow up and wrote the word "a night-mooring near maple bridge" in the dark. Then, just copy the remaining 28 words. I say "copy" because those 28 words stand out in his mind, just like the black words on the white wall:
Crows fell on the moon, crowed coldly, slept on maple trees, and slept in fishing lanes by the river. In the lonely Hanshan Temple outside Suzhou, the bell that rang in the middle of the night reached the passenger ship.
Thank God, if there were no last Zhang Ji, there would be a good poem missing in the history of poetry, and no one would speak for us in a certain mood.
1200 years later, who is the champion on that long list (that is, the paper gold list that Zhang Ji can't squeeze in)? Ha! No matter who he is. The name that is really remembered is "Zhang Ji, a laggard". Will anyone remember the grand parade of the champion in red? Don't! We only remember the frustrated man on the autumn night passenger ship and his immortal insomnia.
Sauvignon Blanc-Rewriting Jiangnan Dream (Wen)
"Wash and dress, leaning on the wangjiang building. After all, Qian Fan is not here, the light is full of water, and Bai Pingzhou is heartbroken. "
Tang, a dynasty with extremely prosperous commerce. After marriage, men all go into the sea to do business, and the softness of Jiangnan water towns has also created more savvy businessmen. However, the long river swept away the man who went out to do business, leaving a daughter who was sad all day and lived alone. ...
She is just one of millions of daughters waiting for her husband to come home. Her story is unique, and there is sadness in helplessness in the ordinary. ...
Chaoyang, just showing his youthful and energetic face, streaks of golden light sprinkled on the river, flashing and flowing. In the house by the river, the windows of hollowed-out wood carvings are open. A slim and delicate Jiangnan woman is dressing up in front of the mirror. This is her. Even with rouge and makeup, the people in the bronze mirror are still haggard. Her eyes were blank, and her hands mechanically took out the gold hairpin in the box and put it in the bun. Chai Jin was in too deep, but she didn't realize it. She just looked at the mirror in an empty way. Listen, listen, ...
She didn't wake up until the sun climbed higher and higher. Walking on the steps, walking upstairs, still no eyes. She opened the wooden door and "creaked" and the bright sunshine suddenly came in. She subconsciously covered her hands, only to find that half an hour had passed. She went to the railing and looked out alone. Suddenly, her eyes sparkled like countless flashes of hope, and her facial muscles even twitched. It turned out that in the river next to the building, there were several white sails. As we approached, we could see them clearly. She leaned forward hard to see if her husband was on the boat. She even waved desperately, but no one noticed her existence. The white sail didn't stop, but went on, driving farther and farther, and gradually became a white sail. She suddenly leaned against the wall, and the light of hope in her eyes diminished.
In this way, from morning till night, from sunrise to sunset, from galleon to small passenger ship, from east to west, she has been standing there, staring blankly, waiting stupidly. I didn't know how many ships passed by until I didn't know how many hours passed.
The sunset cast his last afterglow, and the warm yellow light still shone on the river like the morning, flashing and flowing. But the light is not as bright as in the morning, but more helpless and sad. She was still standing there. Suddenly, another boat, with white sails dyed warm yellow by the sunset, got excited again and stood on tiptoe to look out. How she wishes this was her husband's boat! Her aching heart can't bear any more disappointment! But when the ship sailed away as usual, it gradually disappeared. She suddenly sat down on the ground, and the gold hairpin on her head fell off and broke into two pieces. ...
Her eyes were blurred by tears, but a clear picture appeared in the blur: a windy and calendar morning, on a sandbar full of white apple flowers, the cargo ship was waiting, and her husband took her hand and said affectionately, "Remember, wait for me." She nodded.
Tomorrow, will she wait?