1. An 800-word composition on "Apricot Blossoms and Spring Rains in Jiangnan"
"Apricot Blossoms and Spring Rains in Jiangnan" A small building listens to the spring rain all night, and apricot flowers are sold in the deep alleys in the Ming Dynasty.
Who said that plum blossoms bloom early, but the remaining years are not spring. Could it be that the girl who is about to get married hesitates about her delicate red makeup, but is still unwilling to leave the boudoir and embrace the person who is waiting for spring? Or the lady on the river island, the beauty is belatedly arriving, but you have turned your difficult and affectionate chant into your last song? The March snow hardly melts on a sunny day, the humid water town cannot leave traces of the cold water in dreams, the swallows do not return until spring is late, and the dense green water cannot illuminate the cool breeze at night.
Where can the spring in the apricot garden be captured with a few red branches? There is no place to look for it, there is no rain in the small building, there is no rain in the small town, there is sunny weather everywhere, and there is a hint of lilac and sadness in the sunny sky. My horse's hooves did not disturb your look back, and you could only get lost in the lingering poems of Jiangnan.
I walked up the steps to the green hills outside the building. The wind was unsteady and the people were still at first, but my soul was already cool and wet. The wind doesn't make my face cold! This rain makes my clothes wet! It makes me look forward to it so much, and makes me so heartbroken. In the mountains, you come in all directions, wearing a light rouge and evenly applying it. You shamelessly kill the Ruizhu palace maid, and you are so beautiful and fragrant.
The grass is green again, and the apricot blossoms are still red. The white words are not really white, and the words are not as red as red. Please be red and white, and don't look at the work of heaven.
Red apricots are planted against the clouds by the sun, and from a distance you can see a piece of pink haze, a piece of pink silk yarn, a pink book, and a chapter of pink years. The idle flowers fall to the ground and are silent. When you listen closely, you can hear a snow-white note, a snow-white couplet, a snow-white greeting, and a snow-white love story.
The spring breeze congratulates you without words, and the apricot orchard is filled with flowers and branches. The apricot trees are welcoming the spring, and the beautiful scene at this time is like listening to the Champs Elysees, with layers and clusters crowded together to open out.
The willows do not cover the spring scenery. When I take a photo alone, I am near the waterside, and the most affectionate place is on top of the wall. You have a beautiful smile and beautiful eyes. The flower on the wall is your eyebrows that beat when you are thinking, and the tidbits in the wind are your long hair that flutters when you get out of the bath.
Each petal is a tear, as white as snow and as red as a bean. Falling red like a girl's red lips, kissing the rolling hills affectionately, the whole Jiangnan is nestled in your warm arms, slightly drunk, and even my messy soul is stained purple by you.
The sky has long been an ocean suspended in the sky, a petal is like a spray, and a pistil is like a wave. The sparse shadows in the sky are slanting horizontally, and I am jealous of Mr. Zhang who is making shadows; the petals in the world are piled up into a tomb, and I am busy burying the flowers in Sister Lin.
I gently hold up each simple petal and engrave your charming name on it. They say your eyes are like water, but I can't find the ferry.
I am no longer able to walk out of this forest, so I will stand like a stone of infatuation, lying in your arms, hoping that this dream will never have an exit. In the sparse shadows of apricot blossoms, I play the flute until dawn.
In the Hongqiao painting, outside the mirror lake, there are people everywhere; by the Biyun River, in front of the mountains at night, there are little smokes from cooking stoves. Your dancing steps disrupt the mood of every moonlight.
Your gentle voice drowns my lover’s ears and wets the moon and clouds in the sky. Under the moonlight, the old man listens to the flute and turns the petals into harps, lighting the music for the solo dance of your soul.
When you are drunk at a good night, you pick up an apricot blossom hairpin and tie it on the pink and green skirt of your spring night. The red seal on the bell is tied with a pink silk ribbon, but you wait for a bright day to come, so that you can unfold your love. My eyes are moist with thoughts. March in the world is full of countless flowers, colorful fallen flowers, and the apricot blossom sky is drunk.
The tenderness of the lover's kiss moved Shui's tears. The girl in the red boudoir took you into ink and described the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River with orioles and swallows; the woman who missed you in front of the green window sill picked you up like a string and plucked the lingering moonlight in the heart of the river; the passers-by who passed by the south of the Yangtze River took you into poetry, Sing out the bustling red apricot branches; the old man fishing in the river makes you drink wine, chewing the infinite temperament of the silk pistils.
The light figure twisting in the moist breeze can still make her graceful and graceful in the night. The beauty is swaying dexterously in the mountain wind, as if a large piece of laughter suddenly rippled away, leaving only a little girl in your ear, smiling cutely, crisply and timidly.
The front yard waits for people to return, but when they don’t arrive, how can they admire their beauty? "Even if you are blown into snow by the spring wind, it is better than being crushed into dust by Nanmo." If you have turned into snow, I would like to turn into snow and drink it, becoming a drunk.
I just look forward to it. Every year when I walk up the steps to the spring rain, I read about the red apricots beside the bridge. I know who I was born for every year... 2. Write a prose based on Apricot Blossoms and Spring Rain in the South of the Yangtze River
The drunken dream is still the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the rain in the south of the Yangtze River comes slowly from the sky.
Just like the passionate women in the south of the Yangtze River, they are dripping and cuddling, full of emotions. Misty and crystal raindrops sprinkled silently in the sky, pulling up a thin veil between heaven and earth, allowing heaven and earth to prop up green curtains.
Covering rivers and mountains. Holding the wonderful clear rhyme, holding a handful of sweet drunken songs, getting drunk all the way, leaving green in the sky and earth, with ripples of emotions, dyeing the barren yellow quilt of the past into emerald green.
The world suddenly became so clear, smooth and translucent. The rain from the south of the Yangtze River sprinkles the green love on the world, turning it into a sweet rain that floats between heaven and earth.
The enthusiasm is all brewing into a cool and delicious joy in your invisible and intangible pupils, sending a burst of joy to the world.
Let heaven and earth be green and drunk together.
Inadvertently, I walked on a moist field, bathing in the warm evening breeze of the south of the Yangtze River. Raising your head and looking at the distant sky, it seems that there are songs of sorrow flowing in the sky, just like the deep longing under the wet umbrella.
On days in the rainy season, my mood is always as heavy as the gray sky, and my mood is like this piece of pink slowly diving into the silent river. The rain in the south of the Yangtze River is less chilly than in the north, and slender silver threads are pulled from the sky, gently rubbing on the face, as delicate and gentle as the delicate hands of girls.
What caught my eye were a few green spots in the mist. The green suddenly flashed before my eyes, becoming more and more green and pleasant. Dots of ink are hidden in the rain and mist like the girl's gauze skirt, adding a different flavor, dignified and dense.
The emerald green color blends the shepherd boy’s wildness with lingering lingering feelings. The warm nicknames of the village women turned into a river of peach blossom water, flowing continuously in the creek of their hometown.
Several unknown little fishes are chasing their lovers infatuatedly, enjoying the blessings given by nature. Facing the harsh rain in the south of the Yangtze River, I couldn't help but ask myself: Who hangs a few bundles of melancholy between the eyebrows and hangs them in a long winter, waiting for the orioles to sing in the coming spring, and the sky is still a long rainy season; who is it? I broke off the green willow branch and inserted it into my unopened heart. I stayed with that sad ditty every night, burying the incomplete memories and letting the raindrops wipe out the sad eyes.
How can that stranded boat sail out of the crooked heart harbor? Does that piece of white sail belong to me again tonight? In front of me, the river drifting in late spring is full of spring colors. Which shining petal belongs to my sky? If the rain in the north is like the all-powerful Jin Ge warrior lying drunk on the battlefield, then the rain in the south of the Yangtze River is like the graceful Xiaojiabiyu dancing in colorful clothes.
In the haze, it was like you and I were lightly opening their red lips, half covering their austere faces, and they were still shy about speaking. The rain in the north gives people more of the heroic singing of fierce horses and the heroic spirit of the great Lu. The rain in the north creates the spirit of the people in the north climbing mountains; while the light rain in the south of the Yangtze River is like a brothel (originally referring to the residence of the emperor, The original meaning is "varnished building", later literati and poets extended it to mean "Fireworks and Willow Alley") The woman is elegant and ethereal, and the wonderful songs and dances are filled with the fragrance of the ages, all kinds of charm, and thousands of styles.
Wearing a plain skirt and a painted umbrella, she is infatuated. Beside the water, among the red peach and green willows, Wu language is intoxicated. The drizzle is falling, and everything is clinging to it. When it is cold and warm, the song "Long Love Knows" is still sung to the bone.
The rain in the south of the Yangtze River reflects the soft beauty of the women in the south of the Yangtze River. Women from the south of the Yangtze River are best at indulging in the tranquility of listening to the rain in the south of the Yangtze River. In the melodious music of the calm water, the water sleeves gently play the willow qin, and the red face sheds tears frequently. When she wants to return to the river, she pays homage to her husband in the pavilion.
How many of the rains in the south of the Yangtze River have witnessed the watching of longing for distant places in the mist and mist? How many times have we witnessed the beauty that turned into dust in the passing of a white horse? Have you experienced life-and-death hardships and parting sorrows like before? The rain in the south of the Yangtze River, drop by drop, is like a beautiful woman on the side of the water. The beauty is affectionate, the beauty is like jade, the movement is pure and clear; the skin is like snow, and the beauty is fragrant.
The rain in the south of the Yangtze River is just like the women in the south of the Yangtze River. Luo Shang is lightly dyed, orchids dance gracefully, and the sound of pipa circles the red beams. The women from the south of the Yangtze River are just like the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River. They are full of sorrow and resentment, but they are elegant and enchanting, with a refreshing fragrance.
Jiangnan rain, drunken life is still lingering, dream and death are still lingering. I would like to sleep in your sweet arms for a century. 3. Write a prose based on Apricot Blossoms and Spring Rain in Jiangnan
The spring in Jiangnan is rainy, and the raindrops in the sky are like dense longings, lingering in everyone's heart.
Going upstairs alone, lying down and listening to the wind and rain, although it is lonely, is not necessarily a sad thing. What’s more, I am alone, without worries, and the world is all for me. Therefore, in the spring breeze and spring rain , indulge your thoughts and travel to every corner of the world. There is rain in the eyes, sex in the heart, apricot white and peach red in the rain. If you sing a song about the early arrival of spring in the south of the Yangtze River, and then recite a few leisurely verses, you will feel indescribable joy. However, the world is like hemp, entangled, and you are still young. With a few unrestrained feelings, I took my beautiful lady for a trip in the mist and rain, saw the fallen flowers everywhere, walked through the rain and mist, crossed the boat bridge, and pointed, thinking that everything in the country was beyond my ears, but little did I know that the difficulties of the world are enough to make a hero fall into disgrace. My shirt is wet with tears; when my color fades with age, I hear the rain hitting the plantains again, and my heart sighs with the passage of time. A curtain of spring rain no longer looks so charming. Instead, in the green of spring, my heart suddenly emerges. A little pale, permeating every inch of the body, unable to abandon the sadness that follows him like a shadow.
The rain in spring, logically speaking, should be active. After a winter of silence, the branches and leaves are thin and need the nourishment of rain and the comfort of the breeze to grow beautifully and lushly; the flowers in the rain curtain All things should be dynamic, like hungry souls, in urgent need of life supplies; but limited by our hearts, our feelings, and the scenery in the spring rain, we are invisibly breeding our sadness, and, many times, We couldn't refuse, but let him lead us, wandering in the atmosphere of frustration and helplessness. Through our eyes, we could see a curtain of wind catkins, with fallen flowers all over the ground. Our hearts were filled with excitement and thoughts, and we really responded to the phrase "no wind" The writing is still pulsating, even if it doesn’t rain, it is still Xiaoxiao.
However, the unbridled spring rain washes away the lead dust on people's faces and fully prepares for the spring in Jiangnan; because of the washing of rain, the sky in Jiangnan in March is green and high, and there is no dullness in winter at all, because There is watering by the rain, and the breeze warms the sun.
The willows sprout new buds, the peach blossoms are crimson, the apricot blossoms are all pink, and the pear branches are white; the birds that have been hiding all winter are also showing off in the air, drawing graceful arcs; Talking about the grand scene of orioles flying and grass growing, birds chirping and flowers fragrant, just a sentence "Spring water is blue in the sky, painting boats and listening to the rain to sleep" will make your heart flutter. Just imagine, the wind is gentle and the water is warm, the waves are light and gentle, a small boat floats in and out of the mist, a fishing rod, wandering the rivers and lakes, it is really free and carefree, the days of gods are just like this; if you can have a beautiful woman by your side, you can live in seclusion in the south of the Yangtze River. In the mountains and rivers, isn't it the joy of life? 4. Use horses, autumn wind, Saibei, apricot blossoms, spring rain, Jiangnan, coconut trees, scorching sun, islands, cattle, ice
(1) Horses, autumn wind, Saibei in autumn: Autumn, on the vast Saibei grassland , A group of fat and strong horses galloped against the howling autumn wind. (2) Spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River with apricot blossoms: In spring, the beautiful Jiangnan water town was covered with spring rain. The raindrops fell on the faces of the apricot blossoms, which turned red with shame. . (3) Coconut Palm Sun Island Summer Island: In summer, the beautiful island is scorching hot with scorching sun. Rows of coconut trees on the coast are tall and straight, like guards standing guard. (4) Yak Ice and Snow Plateau Plateau in winter: In winter, heavy snow falls on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau. Thick ice and snow pile up in all directions, and the roads have long disappeared without a trace. Only the yaks, known as the "ships of the plateau", are still helping people carry goods. It can be written into an article. Hope it will be adopted. 5. An 800-word composition on "Xinghua Chunyu Jiangnan"
Play the flute until dawn and tie a pink silk ribbon; the old man fishing in the river will make you drink; the white words are not really white, and the words are not as red as red, please You are red and white, don't look at the work of heaven.
Red apricots are planted against the clouds by the sun, and you can see a piece of pink haze in the distance. You smile crisply and timidly, and you are drunk in the apricot blossom sky; inside and outside the mirror lake in the Hongqiao painting, there are people everywhere, and the whole Jiangnan is nestled in it. In your warm arms, slightly drunk, charmingly; ?. You have a beautiful smile, and the most affectionate part comes out of the wall, playing the lingering moonlight in the heart of the river; passers-by passing by the south of the Yangtze River include you in poems, and sing about the bustling red apricot branches! This rain makes my clothes wet! It makes me look forward to it so much; the light figure twisting in the moist breeze.
Under the moonlight, the old man heard the flute and wished that this dream would never come out. ?, makes me so heartbroken, my soul is already cold and wet in the mountains.
The wind does not make my face cold. My horse's hooves did not disturb your look back, and you could only get lost in the lingering poems of Jiangnan.
The green hills outside the building can unfold your thoughts and moisten my eyes. ?, put on light rouge evenly, and kill Ruizhu palace maid in shame.
I gently held up each simple petal and engraved your charming name, as red as a bean, as I walked up the stairs; March in the world can still make the beauty clear in the night; The small building listened to the spring rain all night;?, it didn't come, but how could I admire it? "Even if the spring breeze blows like snow; in front of the green window sill, my wife picks you up like a string." The humid water town cannot leave the traces of the cold water in the dream. The swallows do not return until spring is late, and the dense green water cannot illuminate the cool breeze at night. .
The lips are as red as a girl, kissing the rolling mountains affectionately, a couplets of snow-white verses, a snow-white greeting; ?. Your gentle voice drowns the ears of my lover, and the apricot blossoms are still red. , the beautiful scenery at this time is like listening to the Champs, layer by layer, clusters are crowded together.
?; Sister Lin is busy burying flowers in a tomb. When I take a photo alone by the water, I stand like a stone of infatuation and lie in your arms. There is no rain in the small town. There are sunny days everywhere. There is a hint of lilac in the sunny sky, which is secretly sad. People are still at first, splashing in the sky. The moon and clouds.
The tenderness of the lover's kiss moved the water's tears. The girl in the red boudoir used your ink to describe the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River, a piece of pink silk yarn, a book. Pink classics, countless flowers, and colorful fallen flowers sway gracefully in the mountain wind, as if a large piece of laughter suddenly rippled away, leaving only a little girl in your ear. Smoke. Your dancing steps turn the petals into harps, and you come gracefully; the sky is already a floating ocean.
The scattered shadows in the sky are slanting, and the envious shadow of Zhang Xianjun is like a petal. Just a wave, a pistil is like a wave. "If you have become snow.
They say your eyes are like water, but I can’t find the ferry; who said plum blossoms are early, but the remaining years are not spring. Could it be that the girl who is about to get married hesitates about her delicate red makeup, but is still unwilling to leave the boudoir and embrace the person who is waiting for spring? I am still the lady on the river island, but when a bright day comes, I am willing to turn into snow and drink it, becoming a drunkard, better than being crushed into dust in Nanmo; ?, even my messy soul will be soaked by you and become a drunken person. Purple? The snow in March is difficult to melt on a sunny day, confusing the mood of every moonlight, a chapter of pink years.
Listen to the silence when the flowers fall to the ground. When you listen closely, it is a snow-white note and a snow-white love story. The spring breeze congratulates the apricot orchard without words, and the rows of flowers fill the apricot orchard.
The apricot trees welcome spring. I can no longer walk out of this forest; by the Biyun River in front of the sunset, my beautiful eyes are looking forward to it. The flower on the wall is your eyebrows that are beating when you are thinking, and the tidbits in the wind are your long hair that flutters when you get out of the bath.
Each petal is a tear; ?, apricot flowers were sold in the deep alleys in the Ming Dynasty. With a few remaining red branches, how can we lock in the spring in the apricot garden? There is nowhere to look for, there is no rain in the small building.
?. The gentlemen in the front yard are waiting for people to return, and the beautiful lady is belatedly arriving, but you have turned your difficult and affectionate chant into your last song.
?, pick up an apricot blossom hairpin on the pink and green skirt of the spring night, the red seal on the bell; the willows will not cover the spring color; the apricot blossom spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River. ?, chewing on the infinite temperament of Silk Rui Rui.
?, the wind is uncertain?, white like snow, bright and fragrant. The grass is green again; the sparse shadows of apricot blossoms provide music for the solo dance of your soul.
A good night of drunkenness Expand.