The prose is short, beautiful, lively and interesting. Its history can be traced back to oracle bone inscriptions, and it is a literary genre alongside poetry, drama, and novels; it includes political treatises, historical essays, biographies, travel notes, letters, diaries, memorials, sketches, tables, prefaces and other types of essays and essays. It is A model of language, art, and literary genres, it has high aesthetic value. Below is the prose I brought to you about Chang'an. I hope it can help you! Essay about Chang'an 1: Missing Chang'an
I can no longer see the shadow of Chang'an.
Chang'an fell into that expanse of blue waves, with a wry smile at the corner of his mouth, sinking, sinking, and disappeared.
Returning to Chang'an in my dreams several times. Go back to the Yanliu Painted Bridge, the hibiscus pool, the hosta in the bun, and the skirt dancing. Go back to the Daming Palace, go back to the nine-story platform, look at the war flags and hunt, and sing and dance. Returning to Baqiao, I broke off a willow branch and looked towards the old road of Yangguan. Chang'an, Chang'an, my love is deep and my thoughts are deep. I returned to Chang'an in my dreams several times. In the palace palace and in the pear garden, there are flutes, songs and dances, and the clouds on the empty mountain are not flowing. I saw a man stroking his beard and drinking wine drunkenly on the sapphire table in the Hanlin Academy. Too white, too white, my heart is too white to tolerate my body! Birds fly across, leaving scars in the sky of Chang'an.
However, Changan has disappeared.
Except for a few old gates and a few broken walls, where is the shadow of Chang'an? Can you find Chang'an?
Can't be found. Chang'an has disappeared.
What we are bleeding is still the blood of that time. The people of Chang'an, the story of Chang'an, the vicissitudes of Chang'an, the love, sorrow, and sadness of Chang'an all step on this land.
However, it is not Chang'an after all.
We chanted the poems from that time. The grass on the original plain grows brighter and wither every year. It's noon on the day of hoeing, and the sweat is dripping from the soil. Like chanting a nursery rhyme. My childhood has long been invisible. I recited poems and felt the fragrance of childhood and the sentimentality in my memories. The poetry at that time was trembling and stagnant in time and space. The world on the side is like a calendar, turning page by page, but the trembling never changes, like a butterfly flying into the flowers of childhood.
I can see the tearful faces. The river flows quietly, the spring night, the flower field on the terrace, the moonlight and frost, those focused eyes - flashing, maybe with tears. There are boundless fallen trees that do not end the Yangtze River. Someone asked, where is the place where I live? On Tianmu Mountain, on the Shu Plank Road, I heard a loud laugh. I knew that behind that unruly body, there was a stone weighing on my heart. A piece of long white clouds, under the clear sun, on Qingfeng Pu, weeping figures. At the head of the Yangtze River, at the end of the Yangtze River, I miss you every day and don't see you, and tears fall into my sad stomach.
Why, what is left in the prosperous years are lonely tears.
Liu Yuxi once said: Thousands of sails pass by the side of the sunken boat, and thousands of trees spring in front of the diseased tree. He said he liked the sight. But those who understand that era understand the mood of the sunken boat and diseased trees - gray, like dark shadows in the bright sunshine. Loneliness in the prosperous age is like the dead leaves in the lush forest. The prosperous age is the most miserable background for loneliness.
I don’t know, in today’s prosperous world, is there something, a feeling, that can be engraved in people’s hearts and be unforgettable and indelible a thousand years later?
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After all, it’s not Chang’an.
Chang'an, Chang'an, maybe you are lonely? Are you a special case?
Falling into dust from the prosperous age, poetry suddenly became quiet. It's like it's stuck in the throat. Gone is the lingering sadness of the Kaiyuan period. Missing is that person, drinking heavily and then getting drunk and then singing. The poetry fairy left, and the poetry ghost came.
There is also tenderness. This feeling can be recalled later, but - it was just that it was at a loss at that time. Tenderness, but melancholy.
Also, Han Yu, why is he crying? You talk affectionately to your daughter, and you share your grudges and grudges. Suddenly the situation becomes grand, and the warrior goes to the enemy's battlefield! - But why are you crying? What's in the sound of the piano? - Pushing the hand to stop it suddenly, the clothes are wet with tears. I am sincerely capable, so don’t put ice in my stomach! Prose Chapter 2 of Describing Chang’an: Dreaming Back to Chang’an
Xi’an – Chang’an – the ancient capital of thirteen dynasties, there are so many things that affect my thoughts many.
I insist on calling it Chang'an instead of Xi'an because the meaning of Chang'an is too broad. He is Xianyang, Baling, Lishan...
It is too much historical accumulation...
When I set foot on the land of Xi'an, what greeted me was this ancient city wall that has stood for thousands of years.
In front of me, Shangde Gate was filled with endless traffic and people. In my mind, what flashes in my mind are the high carriages used by Emperor Qin Shihuang on his tours, and the ceremonial guards used by Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty for hunting... What else? The graceful dancing in the Weiyang Palace? The Hajj in the Daming Palace? Or the melodious neon clothes and feathers in the Huaqing Palace. Qu?...a strange combination, the collision of modernity and history, traveling through two thousand years of time and space, but blending together without conflict.
Chang'an Road. Wine flag style
I was sitting in this tavern with the charm of the Han and Tang Dynasties. I opened the window and looked out into the distance. I saw the thick and majestic city wall. Downstairs, there was a constant flow of traffic, which highlighted the prosperity of this city.
The establishment of Chang'an City is naturally attributed to men. From the Zhou Dynasty to the Tang Dynasty, successive generations of monarchs opened up territories and worked hard to create an increasingly prosperous Chang'an. After the opening of the Silk Road, "Chang'an" became the center of Eastern civilization. It is said in history that "there is Rome in the west and Chang'an in the east". I recall those days when people with different skin colors, speaking different languages, dressed in different costumes, walked leisurely or busy in the market, displaying various products. Such stability, prosperity and fashion should be even better than those in Tokyo and Paris today.
The initial construction by Qin Shihuang established the domineering power of this city. The roar of Qin Opera and Xintianyou's soaring to the sky all reveal a kind of toughness. To be precise, the King of Qin said that the First Emperor's capital was in Xianyang. Xianyang is only 17 kilometers away from Xi'an and is called Xianyang Plain. It is inseparably connected with the perfect Feng Shui dragon vein of Lishan Mountain.
However, even if they are eternal emperors, they are not in my eyes. The city of Chang'an in my eyes shines brightly because of one person. ——He is Li Bai.
"Li Bai wrote hundreds of poems about drinking wine and went to sleep in a restaurant in Chang'an City. The emperor couldn't get on the ship because he was called by the emperor, but Yun Chen was an immortal in wine." What a bold and unruly banished immortal! The remains of the immortal poetry have long been lost in the In the dust of history, what remains is the unruly character, soaked in the details of Chang'an City.
A large flag "Taibai Relics" is hung outside the railing, and a few lines of grass on the wall - "Five-flowered horses and golden furs, the call will be exchanged for fine wine, and we will sell the eternal sorrow with you!"
Li Bai came to Chang'an to pursue his ideal. His ideal was to be able to stabilize the country and become a minister. But what Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty appreciated about him was only his achievements in poetry and prose. Regardless of whether Li Bai was a politician or not, maybe even if he entered politics, he might not be a prime minister. But when he found that he seemed to have obtained unprecedented political opportunities, but after the dust settled, he realized that although he had won Xuanzong's appreciation, But he was just regarded as a royal literati who was good at writing and ink. He was just a royal writer with a slightly higher status than an actor who played the harp and sheng. This is the tragedy of Li Bai. He will not compromise with reality, he will not settle for second best, as long as he stays by the emperor's side, or he will take advantage of every opportunity to get close to the emperor to opportunistically achieve his goal. He would rather choose to leave - give money and return it. Traveling among famous mountains and rivers, you can feel free and elegant. He never gave up on his ideals and integrated his ambitions into his character. Watch his "Sleepwalking Tianmu Yin Farewell", watch his "The Road to Shu is Difficult", watch his "Xia Ke Xing", watch his "Will Enter the Wine"... It's grand and majestic! What a free and easy atmosphere. ! "The wine enters the sad heart, seven points turn into sword energy, and the showy mouth is half the prosperous Tang Dynasty..."
Although Li Bai's days in Chang'an were not long, Chang'an shines because of Li Bai! < /p>
Weiyang Palace. Pipa Song
Chang'an has become a majestic city under the construction of men, and women have added mysterious and magnificent charm to Chang'an.
More than a thousand years ago, a well-dressed woman walked out of the gate of Weiyang Palace of the Han Dynasty, and the camel team escorting her continued north, north... out of the Great Wall, toward the grasslands, and toward the desert. The wind and sand in the desert, the princess's pipa, Chang'an is an endless dream, connected to the dusk in the green tomb, connected to the solitary smoke and the setting sun, connected to the cold moon at the border...