Standing in the long river of history, 1 once again dreamed of the Tang Dynasty, showing an eternal and brilliant poetic prosperity and reappearing the infinite emotional process of the rise and fall of the Tang Dynasty.
"Heart greatly, let me brother jin iron horse. Read the eternal romance and monopolize the eternal chic. " The sand raised from the horseshoe laid the foundation of the world and opened an unprecedented prosperity. I only remember that "Xiangyun is blooming, and poetry and painting are thick." I like letting a hundred flowers blossom and a hundred schools of thought contend. "Prosperous schools. Has time buried your lofty aspirations, leaving only the "Millennium Festival", which will not survive in the world? "Infinite feelings.
When "the wine in Zhumen stinks, the bones on the road freeze to death", you are "riding a princess in the world of mortals and laughing" and enjoying yourself day and night in the harem of 3,000 beautiful women. You see, the beauty is like a orchid, like a three-inch golden lotus, dancing in the bleak and lonely moonlight! "The cloud sleeves are lightly waved, and the waist is twisted." The beauty is cocky, wearing a Luo Qi, with a golden bell around her neck and a jade ring around her waist. "If she just turns her head and smiles, there are hundreds of spells cast, and the six palaces fade into nothing." The exquisite appearance hangs down from her shoulders. It is really "clear water gives birth to hibiscus, and it is natural to carve it."
Listen to the rain at night, and enjoy the beautiful neon red feather in the corner of Shang Yu in Pipa Palace at midnight. Oh, is this the last regret of a dying country?
This, that is the last struggle of the prosperous dynasty, and it is such a mess! There are no more substantial troops, but men are frantically caught to fight, as if seeing the tragic image of "why officials are angry and women are crying". The old woman's crying all night seems to mark the sinking of the once magnificent mountains and rivers.
An Shi Rebellion ended a prosperous generation. Du Fu saw it, and everyone saw it: the empire was crumbling, the splendid rivers and mountains were ravaged, and the country would die. It's spring again, but the prosperity of the past no longer exists. "Petals fall like tears, and lonely birds sing their sadness." The endless bonfire and continuous March make mountains and rivers want to cry!
Perhaps before that, it had predicted the end of today. It's a pity that "Chrysanthemum reflects the bright moon, I love Leng Zui Jun Huai" is just a moment in history. However, I seem to see a merchant girl singing "backyard flowers" on the other side of the river. The clouds are gorgeous and enchanting, and the hatred of national subjugation is insignificant.
Colorful history, embedded with the rise and fall of countless empires, can't keep the Iraqis even if all the wickers are broken, just like ruthless time, burying you in the river and starting to look for its new direction. However, what you left to the world is a collection of poems with thousands of volumes of souls and beautiful poems. Whether it's the tragic hero who is gone forever or the tragic one with tears in his eyes, it's intoxicating and memorable.
The second part of poetry creation: the precipitation of five thousand years of culture,
Three thousand years of poetry has a long history.
This is a zigzag loop, the endless river of mother. From "The White Dew is Frost" to "Morning Glory, Beautiful River Girl", love songs are sung on the river; From "I take a long breath to hide my tears and mourn the hardships of people's lives" to "I look at thousands of fingers coldly and bow my head as a willing ox", the meditation of worrying about the country and the people reverberates in the heart of the river. ...
Throughout the ages, how many literati hackers have written landscapes, feelings and ambitions with poems? Poetry is like a torrent, pouring into the riverbed of culture. The river of poetry flows for the poet, for the poet, the poem keeps flowing, and the water is inexhaustible. I yearn for poetry and stare at the vast sea of poetry classics. I am silent, looking for the invisible river in poetry in silence, but I am intoxicated with it.
Tao Yuanming, the pioneer of the pastoral school, was unwilling to bow down to Wudoumi, so he resigned and cultivated Nanmu. For the sake of righteousness, Taoism and benevolence, he roamed the Peach Blossom Garden, became friends with heaven and earth, interacted with mountains and rivers, and the river of poetry flowed for him.
Li Bai, a brilliant star in the Tang Dynasty, "was a poet in China." The imperial concubine honed, Lux took off his boots to be brave, paid back the money, and there were hundreds of brave words about fighting wine, which showed his extraordinary charm. He integrated unruly personality and inner repression into poetry, and finally left excellent works for Tao, benevolence and ambition. He was drunk and started talking about poetry.
Ling Du traveled far and wide, and he became famous when he was a child. He is a helpless scholar, but he has the ambition to help the world. Although he is an official, he has a bad reputation. He shed tears in troubled times and expressed his feelings in troubled times. Although he failed to return to heaven, he left behind an infinite yearning for "all the poor people in the world are happy from the ground up." His poems
A sad song tells us that a person is loyal to his intestines, sighing at the sea and being blocked by the beach. You are a civil servant and a poet. In the face of broken mountains and rivers, the country broke down and the family died, you turned a cavity of grief and indignation into the eternal swan song of "Who has never died in life since ancient times, leaving a heart to shine on history". For home, people and country, you hold up the value of life with a patriotic heart, and the river of poetry flows for you and runs for you.
How many years have you been away from your feelings, and how many years have you been lyrical. Poetry, with its unique spirituality, records the poet's inner world without reservation. That stormy night, the magnificent mountains and rivers, and the great ambition to serve the country are all the sublimation of the poet's feelings and the manifestation of the value of life. From love to patriotism, from description to ambition, it is gradually introduced and deepened, and finally becomes the epitome of a person's growth history and an era.
The river with water is infinite, and the poem with poetry is long-term. China's culture is more beautiful against the background of poetry and more dazzling under the inspiration of the poet's emotion. The river in the poem has a long history and is sincere. Poetry is the essence of a vast country's 5,000-year culture, just like a blooming rose, which depicts life with poetry and touches life with poetry.
The river in the poem flows for the poet, the times and China culture. ...
Poetry and prose are separated by 30%, reflecting white, pear blossoms, reflecting spring scenery and moving back, and green hills are stained with ink.
The rain is sparse and the wind is residual. Since the riverbank, I have been cooking wine and burning incense, but I have kept silent and sighed with a smile.
The flowers on the other side are as hidden as shame, and the moon is lonely tonight.
Flowers bloom and fall, incense is full of sleeves, and white clothes are lonely. Drunkenness is too common.
The cold wind blows, and I want to look unruly and frown slightly.
If you don't think about it, you will never forget it, and your feelings will follow the wind. After all, you will cry a thousand times.
Prosperous and empty, flashy dreams, reluctant to leave, after all, water flows east.
I was drunk, humming softly, and the river was picturesque with half a song.
The moment of youth, confidante, tonight, I invite Mingyue to have a bitter drink.
Only three points melancholy, and who miss.
If the boat on the bank of the river is like water, because the painting is far away, with the east wind, memories of the past are frequent.
Who is writing for acacia, unwilling to forget the world, and rarely listens to the flute (gone)
Around the clouds, meet again after the flowers bloom.
Looking into the distance, green mountains overlap green mountains,/the river is worried about water. ...
Looking at it, I can't tell the boat apart, I am passionate and I can't understand it. Is it my fault?
Singing, singing endless songs, watching the flowers bloom in late summer, sighing that they will eventually wither. Give me a drink. ...
Sitting alone in Jiangzhou sail, it is thin and windy in summer, and I laugh and get carried away.
River bank, castle peak, boat, greenhouse, thin wine, song,
If you wave your sleeves, leave today, don't miss it.
Forgot one thing.
Poetry Composition 4 Autumn Yellow Leaf Birch Forest,
Awaken the memory of Ye Tomb.
The past has become clearer,
Only to find that I never forgot.
Through the green rainy season,
Dark birch forest in memory
I can't remember whether it is tears or raindrops that flow down my cheeks.
I can't remember whether the whimper in my ear is the wind or myself.
I still won't forget a downpour,
Tired, we got lost and stopped looking.
Only rely on, only let each other disappear without a trace.
I still remember,
Pacing time
Experience the alternation of stars.
Every time I look at the stars,
Inadvertently reach out but can't find another distance.
I still remember,
Every rainy season is sad.
She looks more and more like it.
A meteor shower across Xinghai,
See you in the foreseeable future.
I still remember,
Write the last stroke of her name in her diary.
I don't remember it anymore.
No longer remember,
Until I happened to walk through the familiar birch forest,
I realized that she never left.
Perhaps, I never thought I would write poetry in my life. I used to think that poetry should be written by poets and writers. Which round will beat our students? When I was promoted to Datong and "Poetry School", I began to approach poetry.
I remember the first time I was faced with the task of writing poetry given by my teacher. I was really taken aback, but I quickly disagreed. Writing poetry sounds simple, so it shouldn't be difficult. You can really write it down to understand what Zhang Fei wears: eyes of a needle, big eyes and small eyes. This poem, which was written without a clue, was immediately picked out by the teacher. At that time, I was wondering if I didn't have such cells. Later, I wrote it again and again before I realized that the method is very important.
Writing poetry is similar to writing a composition, and both need great inspiration! But god didn't give me face at all. Inspiration does not come out of thin air. It needs something that can touch your heart. Once when I wrote a poem, I had no thoughts at all, let alone inspiration! Suddenly found that the wallpaper on the computer desktop is not good enough. I wanted to change it, so I opened the sogou wallpaper. Looking at it, I was attracted by a picture of sunset, which was beautiful and reminded me of that poem: to see the sun, for all his glory, buried by the coming night. This is somewhat sad. At this moment, inspiration came to my mind, and the feeling that I started writing and it was very smooth really made me understand the importance of inspiration.
Another point is very important. If you want to write something, you must observe it carefully and investigate some of its habits. In a Chinese class, the teacher assigned us to write poems about Parthenocissus tricuspidata. This makes me feel embarrassed. I usually don't pay attention to the green on the wall, so I can't write it. In order to complete the task, I began to study the greatness of Parthenocissus tricuspidata. After understanding, I know its habits. After the cold winter, the first place where Parthenocissus tricuspidata sprouts is its top, and the last place to turn green is its beginning. This is really a clever plant. This habit can not only turn all the branches and leaves green, but also grow bit by bit with the appearance of a small bud until the whole wall is covered. Isn't this good material for writing poetry? It seems that figuring out the habits of things is definitely good for writing poetry.
With poetry, I have changed from a person who doesn't know poetry to a poetry lover. This is really a leap! Know poetry, be happy and enjoy! I will follow this poetic road.
I walked into the country of poetry, danced lightly in poetry, and recalled the ancient fragrance of thousands of years. Thoughts pass through the world of mortals, return to the open-mindedness of "Looking at Yue", return to the sincerity of "Ode to Wanderers" and return to the fraternity of "Yueyang Tower". Release the volume, the room is full of fragrance.
Harvest the vastness of life
I traveled through time and space, flew to the top of Mount Tai and met Du Fu. This gentleman, who cares about the world, was moved by this broad vision, and a heroic work "Looking at Yue" made me burst out: how majestic the holiness of Mount Tai is! ? Out of Qilu, green peaks can still be seen. The magical nature brings together thousands of beautiful mountains in the south and the separation between morning and dusk in the north. Layers of white clouds, cleaning the gully on the chest; The flat bird flew into the eye socket. Try to climb to the top of the mountain: it dwarfs all the peaks under our feet. At this time, the unhappiness that Du Fu had been accumulating in his heart was suddenly washed away by the rolling clouds in the mountains. He couldn't help shouting from the bottom of his heart and singing to be an indomitable spirit.
This vastness, which can put a mountain into my chest, reminds me of myself and the knot that I once hit in my heart. Once, I couldn't solve it. I almost cut it. Compared with Du Fu's free and easy, I feel ridiculous.
Feel the greatness of maternal love
I stepped into Wandering Sons and sat down at Meng Jiao's house. In the soft light, the loving mother sewed clothes for the children who traveled far away. The thread in the hand of a kind mother makes clothes for her wayward children. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. But every inch of grass is a little sentimental, and it is rewarded with three spring rays! "How sincere, how touching.
Accept a drop of water when necessary, and I will repay your kindness with spring water. Yes, flowers thank the rain and dew, birds thank the sky, and I want to thank my mother most. My father worked outside for many years, and my mother took care of me since I was a child. Time has dimmed her face and bent her back, but only her love for me has never faded.
Feel patriotic firmness
I slowly entered the story of Yueyang Tower. The sentence "Worry about the world first, and enjoy the world later" made everyone remember Fan Zhongyan. A person goes to Yueyang Tower, the moon is like a hook, caressing the railing and feeling his love. He dared to say no, he volunteered, and he drastically rectified the bureaucracy. He has a great heart and truly devoted his limited life to serving the people.
The same is true in ancient and modern times. Can we still ignore our responsibilities? Today's responsibility lies not with others, but with teenagers. Young people have wisdom, then the country has wisdom. A rich teenager makes a rich country. If the youth is strong, the country will be strong. We should make great efforts to create a brilliant miracle of China youth from bit by bit.
When you are sad, "until, raise my cup, I ask the moon to bring me my shadow and let us become three people"; When I miss you, "I don't need to say anything, the curtain rolls in the west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers"; When confused, "the crowd looked for him for thousands of Baidu, and suddenly looked back, but that person was in the dim light." I danced lightly in my poems, cheering for my heart and interpreting beauty and brilliance.
Poetry Composition 7 "Shh-"I suddenly shut up when I was walking on campus. "Why?" Asked the companion. "Listen, smell and see …" I said mysteriously. "Cut!" The companion sneered. "These are the poems of the earth!" I am positive color way. "Ha ha ....." Companion smiled more happily.
Don't believe it? Listen. Listen to the bird that gets up early and does morning exercises. When you didn't wake up, it began to sing a strange and beautiful song. Obviously, the source of the melody is determined from a distance. It's this tree. When you approach, you feel that the voice of nature is coming from the other side, so it is futile to follow the voice. And stand here. The morning sunshine is full of warm tunes, accompanied by a breezy breeze, and the overtones are just right, not to mention the melodious tunes. You can listen carefully, but the tune has drifted away, leaving behind the noise and welcoming the new sun, as if welcoming hope. Poetry of the earth is a song of hope played by birds.
Don't believe it? You smell, you smell the small flowers covered with iron bars, secretly surging with fragrance, with a sweet and cool taste. When you get close to flowers and bones, you smell them, but they are not very fragrant, but you gradually move away, but the fragrance is disturbed and stuck in your nose. On a hot afternoon, I took a swig greedily when I came back, but how can I stop that moment of youth? At this time, you will smell a quiet place full of green leaves, as thin as silk thread and as shallow as nothingness, but it is true. You only dare to sniff and spit carefully, hoping to put others' share into your heart basket, but you don't want to desecrate this elegant beauty. At this moment, you have a little understanding of the songs contained in that breath. Poetry of the earth is an introverted song brewed by flowers and leaves.
Don't believe it? You see, you see the small flames jumping in the west, and the bleak and lifeless dusk has won some extraordinary colors. You must say "the sunset is infinitely beautiful and buried by the coming night", but I didn't. Look carefully. I'm moving. At dusk in the mountains, why don't you stubbornly squeeze out light from the cracks in the trees to show me? He worked so hard, so persistent, it was obvious that he had been reduced to a desperate situation. Why didn't he give up? You stare at Venus floating among the leaves in the crevice. Isn't it Mars that he finally burned himself and released light? Besides, we are still young and can't despair. Even if we fail, how can we be defeated? Looking at the sunset, obviously tired but still tenacious support for a day, there is a faint heat flow into your eyes, and your heart finally understands the songs that have flowed. Poetry of the earth is a persistent song played by the sunset alone.
Children, don't underestimate the poetry of the earth. It gave me hope, taught me to be introverted and told me to persist. I love the poems of the earth, not only his teachings, but also his singing day after day.
Eight readings of the poem Aojiang
Slowly come to the source, Shunxi ancient town.
Sing childhood songs and read books from past lives.
Towering ancient trees, mottled stone bridges, ancient streets
Deduct it into a childlike fable.
They are full of amorous feelings with a long history.
In the morning, the morning sun passes through layers of mist.
Mapping, sawtooth cornice
As ethereal as a fairyland
In the evening, faint smoke.
Under the comfort of the sunset glow
You, thick and mature personality and strong feelings.
Come on, rumbra.
Bowed their heads and carefully counted the remnants on the bluestone strips.
Touch the slightly yellow stone wall.
Gaze, blue tile pine
Put the past days
Write down brick by brick.
Send love to every grass and tree.
Casually, stop
Stories in the Spring and Autumn Period
A scene, vicissitudes of life
First, a wonderful legend
Tao Tao, vicissitudes of life
Leisurely residents
Walking bamboo boat
Be peeled off layer by layer
You can't live without it.
Xiu, a native of Guzhen
Peace and frankness, contentment and peace.
9 canoe, from the ferry covered bridge, through the Shuige, into the bluestone alley. In my sleep, I don't know how to walk into the graceful Qinhuai River. I read a sentence in a book: "I didn't leave early or stay late in the endless wilderness, I just met you." I think, in the youth, holding a poem, sitting alone in the building in the quiet time of afternoon and dusk, the words flow gently between the lips and teeth, such as wading.
The Qinhuai River was silent at night, and I suddenly remembered the poem "The smoke cage is full of sand in the cold month, and the Qinhuai River is near the restaurant at night". In the Huaihe River in the moonlight, the mist curled up in the cold moonlight, blurring the candlelight on the shore; But the strings rustle, people are moving, and they are reflected in the slow water flow into beautiful paper-cut paintings.
Late at night, people gradually fell asleep. When a touch of morning light shines into this ancient town, businessmen and literati are in an endless stream, and ancient paintings, pearls, jade articles and silk are neatly arranged on the street, which is dazzling. The seagulls by the river spread their wings lazily, skimming over the water and flying far away. Pears on the shore are like snow, with a faint fragrance, which is inexhaustible in the spring breeze, and catkins are like smoke. The makeup building is busy, and the drinkers immersed in dreams are smiling, as if they are still relishing Wu Ji's wine.
Go to the ancient bridge, I saw a plain clothes woman riding a green mule, waist elegant, slender fingers, no makeup. May be met an acquaintance, eyebrow eye some care, but no appearance. All she heard was "Can you live well?" I looked up and saw that her face was as white as water. Then, the man who was blown away may be the man who once loved! But it can also be so, not entangled or persistent. I thought that the love along the Qinhuai River must be as lingering as butterfly lovers, and dare to love and hate as Du Shiniang and Li Jia, but the prosaic phrase "Life can be very good" has not been eclipsed by the enthusiasm of "The mountains have no edges, the world is close, but I dare to be with you". It can be seen that Qinhuai women are smart and calm. The so-called past is paid for in the past, and they don't care.
Looking at the woman's distant back, I always feel deja vu for an instant. When I stepped on the bluestone, my thoughts flooded in and my face was as calm as Liu's. Qinhuai River endows the women here with the characteristics of gentleness like water and small family, but their talent is no less than their beauty. Although Liu was in a brothel, he made deep friends with literati such as Fu She, Ji She and Dang at that time, and talked about the current situation. She was very famous in the Ming and Qing Dynasties, and was the first of the eight beauties in Qinhuai. Li Yu, the first emperor of Ci, was also from Qinhuai. Nalan Rong Ruo, who is known as the master of ci poetry, once said: "The distinction between flowers, such as ancient jade, is expensive but not applicable, while Song ci is applicable but of little quality, and Li Houzhu has its beauty, which confuses it." In the later period of Li Yu's ci, he mostly relied on leaning on the fence to return to his dreams to pin the pain of national subjugation. When is the spring flower and autumn moon? Meet each other late and go to the west building alone without words are his representative works of recalling the past.
I don't know when I wandered back to Qinhuai River. I think the Huaihe River flows quietly when Qinhuai is at its peak. Perhaps it has long known that this noisy ancient town will become silent one day. "Phoenix, which used to play here, so that this place was named after them, has now abandoned it and came to this desolate river." "Who sent a desolate look? Huaping misty autumn wind. "Once prosperous, it eventually declined, and Jinling City was desolate, with songs and dances scattered and empty towers. Huaihe River remained silent, and later generations condemned that "merchants hate the country and don't know, but they still sing backyard flowers across the river", but it didn't talk or argue. Although the richness of Qinhuai has disappeared, it has at least fascinated so many people, and the once beautiful scenery has become an eternal scenery in people's hearts.
The scene of "a thousand miles into a river, like a cluster of Qingfeng" and the kind words of "the bridge contains red medicine, and you know who to live for every year" all disappeared at the moment when the sunset tilted into the horizon, entered this water area, washed away the lead and faded away the hustle and bustle of the floating world. Just like that smart woman, her eyes are full of complexity during the day, which is convenient for her to brush away the world of mortals at night. When playing plain clothes, she fell asleep in the clear moonlight, which made her more haunted.
At this time, Qinhuai in front of us is still busy, picking lotus, canoeing, bathing in the breeze, returning from Furong Pu, washing clothes at Xikou, singing light songs and returning at sunset. And my mouth also evoked a smile. If there is an afterlife, I would like to be born by Qinhuai River. I don't have to be a hero, just like a lotus picker.
At night in Qinhuai, I refused to wake up in my dream, for fear that I would pass by in a hurry and could not leave a trace of fragrance between my fingers. I want to listen to this beautiful song written by Huaihe River, leaving eternal chords in my memory and warming my youth.