The story of a bird in folk songs. It's winter. The snow-covered earth looks like marble carved from a rocky mountain. The weather is high and sunny. The cold wind is as sharp as a steel knife made by the devil. Trees look like coral or branches of blooming apricot trees. The air here is as fresh as that in the Alps.
The northern lights and countless shining stars make this night look very beautiful.
The storm is blowing. Flying clouds drop a layer of swan's fluff. Snowflakes flying all over the sky covered lonely roads, houses, empty fields and deserted streets. But we sat in a warm room, sitting by a blazing fire, talking about ancient things. We have heard a story:
There is an ancient soldier's grave by the sea. On the grave sat the ghost of the buried hero. He used to be a king. He shot a golden aperture on his forehead, his long hair was flying in the air, and he was wearing armor all over. He hung his head sadly and sighed in pain, like an unsaved soul.
At this moment, a ship passed by. The sailors cast anchor and came to land. One of them is a singer. He approached the ghost of the royal family and asked:
Why are you so sad?
(1) the original text is skjald. This is a kind of poet in ancient northern Europe. He wrote poems praising heroes and heroic deeds and read them to the audience personally.
The ghost replied:
No one has sung about my life. These deeds are now dead and no longer exist. No songs spread them to the whole country and sent them to the hearts of the people. So I can't get peace and rest.
So the man talked about his career and his great achievements. All his contemporaries knew these things, but no one sang them because there were no singers among them.
The old harpist plucked the strings of the harp. He praised the hero's bravery in his youth, his greatness in his youth and his great achievements. The ghost's face sparkled like a cloud reflecting the moonlight. In the splendid scene of Guanghua, the ghost stood up happily and disappeared like the Northern Lights. There is nothing but a mound covered with green grass, not even a stone tablet engraved with Ronnie's words. But when the strings made the last sound, suddenly a songbird flew out, as if flying directly from the harp. This is a very beautiful songbird. There is a bright timbre like a thrush, a vibrato like a human heart, and a homesick ballad brought by migratory birds. This songbird flies over mountains and valleys, over fields and forests. It is a folk song bird, and it will never die.
This is an ancient hieroglyphic in northern Europe.
We heard its song. One winter night, we heard its singing in the room. The bird not only sang a song about the hero, but also sang a sweet and tender love song. It also praises the simplicity of the northland. It can tell many stories with words and songs. It knows the language of many proverbs and poems. These languages, like Ronnie's poems hidden under the dead man's tongue, have to be sung. In this way, the birds of folk songs make us know our motherland.
In the pagan era, in the Viking era, its nest was built on the harp of the harp poet. In the age of chivalry, fists hold the measure of justice, force is justice, and farmers and dogs are in the same position. In this era, where can this songbird find shelter? Violence and stupidity are not considered at all.
However, the hostess of Knight Castle Village sat at the window of Castle Village, writing her past memories into stories and songs on the parchment in front of her. In a small room, a mobile peddler sat on a stool next to a peasant woman and told a story. Just then, the songbird flew over their heads, mumbling and singing. As long as there is a mountain on the earth that can stand, the bird of this folk song will never die.
It is sitting in the room and singing to us now. It's snowstorm and night outside. It puts Ronnie's poems under our tongues, so we know the land of our ancestors. God speaks our mother's language to us through the tune of birds in folk songs. Old memories are revived, and dim colors give off new brilliance. Legends and folk songs, like joyful wine, intoxicated our souls and thoughts, making this night a Christmas holiday for Jesus.
Snowflakes are flying and ice cubes are broken. There is a storm floating outside. Storm has great power, it dominates everything, but it is not our God.
It's winter. The cold wind is like a steel knife made by the devil. Snowflakes are flying everywhere. In our opinion, they have been flying for days and weeks. It is like a huge snow-capped mountain on the whole city, and it is like a heavy dream in a winter night. Everything on the ground is covered, except the golden cross of the church, which symbolizes confidence. It stands high on this snow mound and shines in the blue sky and bright sunshine.
Over the buried city, there are large and small birds flying in space. Every bird opens its voice, sings heartily and sings heartily.
The first to fly was a flock of sparrows: they told all the little things in the street, in the nest and in the house. They know what happened in the front room and what happened in the back room.
They said, we know this buried city. Everyone who lives in it squeaks! Cheep! Cheep!
Black ravens and crows fly over the snow.
Gung! Gung! They are barking. There is something under the snow, something to eat. That's all that matters. This is the opinion of most people below. And this opinion is right!
Wild swans swooshed their wings and flew in. They sing about great and lofty feelings. This feeling will come from people's minds and souls. These people now live in cities buried by snow.
There is no death, there is life. We can hear this from the tune. The tune of this song seems to come from the church organ; It attracts our attention like the noise on the devil mountain, the singing of the proud fairy, and the swishing flapping of Walcott's wings. What a harmonious voice! This harmony permeates our hearts and makes our thoughts superb. This is the song of the birds in the folk songs we heard! Just then, the warm breath of the sky blew down from above. The snow mountain cracked and the sun shone through the crack. Spring is coming; The bird is back; A new generation, with the same hometown voice in their hearts, has also returned. Please listen to this year's story: violent snowstorm, winter night nightmare! Everything will disappear, and everything will gain new life from immortal folk songs and sweet songs of birds.
Please refer to Andersen's fairy tale "Demon Mountain".
(2) Ossian was a famous chanter in ancient northern Europe.
Walcott is the messenger of Odin, the god of war in Norse mythology. They flew around the battlefield, picking out dying soldiers and taking them to Odin's palace.
Reflections on the story of birds in folk songs This little revelation was published in 1865 The Danish Public Yearbook published in Copenhagen. "Bird of Folk Songs" is a symbolic and figurative synonym, representing the fine tradition of a country and a nation, singing the achievements of heroes of the motherland, sweet and gentle, rich and varied love, and simple atmosphere; You can also tell many stories with words and songs. Let people know the motherland more comprehensively and love it.
Andersen, the story writer of birds in folk songs, began his literary career by writing plays in 1822. After entering the university, the creation has become increasingly mature. He has published travel notes, musical comedies, poetry collections and poetic dramas. 1833' s novel The Impromptu Poet has won him an international reputation and is his masterpiece. His most famous fairy tales include Little Tin Soldier, Daughter of the Sea, Thumbelina, Little Match Girl, Ugly Duckling, The Emperor's New Clothes and so on. Andersen was treated by the royal family before his death and was highly praised: he brought joy to a generation of children all over Europe. His work Andersen's Fairy Tales has been translated into 150 languages, and thousands of fairy tale books have been distributed and published all over the world.