Adapting an ancient poem to write a composition

1. How to rewrite an ancient poem into an article? You can help me think about the ancient poem

quatrains

Two orioles sing green willows, and

a line of egrets rises to the sky.

The window contains autumn snow in Xiling,

The Dongwu Wan Li boat is moored at the gate.

Rewrite:

Grandpa Dong left slowly, and Miss Chun came to our side with a smile. Willow gives off green buds, and small buds look at this wonderful world with curious eyes. The poet couldn't sit still in the room any longer. He looked out of the window and saw two lovely orioles standing in a tree, singing a moving song, and was very happy for the arrival of Miss Chun.

A line of egrets with white feathers lined up neatly, spread their big white wings and flickered vigorously, flying to the blue sky, white clouds and their hometown.

Through the window, you can see that the opposite Xiling Mountain is full of snow that has not changed for thousands of years, which seems to cover the mountain with a silver shirt. The scenery is like a Chinese painting embedded in a window frame. It's really spectacular and beautiful.

The poet pushed open the door, and on the pier in front of the door, all kinds of Wan Li ships from Dongwu were parked. These ships carry goods and give people away. People take the boat and enjoy the picturesque scenery. Everything seems so comfortable and peaceful.

shepherd boy (rewriting of ancient poems)

Look! At first glance, a piece of green grass seems to be spread on the ground! The sound of "rustling sand" when the wind blows gently spreads everywhere.

listen! The shepherd boy is playing the flute again, and a cheerful tone teases the evening breeze, slowly whispering in his ear.

In the morning, when the sun was half exposed, the shepherd boy took his flute and went up the mountain to herd cattle. He sat on the cow's back, playing the flute and humming a tune. Running happily on the grass, unrestrained, without any troubles. Until I am tired of playing, I lie on the grass and look at the white clouds and birds in the sky, with a smile floating around my mouth.

after dinner, the sun had already set, and the bright moon climbed up. With a flute in his hand, the shepherd boy came to the haystack with joyful steps, lay down without taking off his hemp fiber, listened to the unknown bugs singing beautiful songs in the grass, looked up at the bright moon in the night sky, and came up with pictures in his mind.

listen to that cheerful tune playing again, how beautiful it is! Hey! Why did you stop? Oh ... It turned out that the shepherd boy closed his eyes and fell asleep. Yes! He is really tired, so let him have a good sleep listening to the lullaby of the bug!

References:

Qingpingle Village Residence (rewriting of ancient poems). . .

in the afternoon, I walked slowly with a leisurely mood and accidentally saw a low and small hut. Behind the hut are green and tall bamboos and rolling mountains, revealing the quiet atmosphere of the countryside. There is a stream next to the hut. The river is clear and transparent, and all the fish in the river can see it clearly. Under the sunshine, the river looks sparkling. A breeze blew, causing ripples on the river. There are several beautiful lotus flowers on the stream, some of which are in full bloom; Some are in bud; Others seem to be put down. Pink in the white,

red in the pink, like a shy girl with a veil on her face. There are clumps of green grass beside the stream, which grow very luxuriantly. Against the backdrop of the stream and lotus, it is even more beautiful and lovely.

There is an old white-haired couple in front of the hut. They just drank some wine. From their red faces, we can see that they are slightly drunk, leaning together and having an intimate conversation in the dialect of Wudi, and the second son next to them has put in a few words from time to time!

The eldest son of the old couple is weeding hard in the bean field on the east side of the stream. How hard he works! The second son is not idle, and is carefully weaving a chicken coop with bamboo and grass, very focused. The youngest son, who is not yet an adult, can't do anything. He can only lie on the side of the stream and tease the fish naughtily, while peeling the lotus and eating, shaking his feet. It's really lovely!

what a happy family! I was deeply intoxicated, and I just stood there, unwilling to leave for a long time ...

References: 2. Ask for a composition adapted from ancient poems.

The wind is rustling and the water is cold, and the autumn wind blows off the leaves, and the fallen leaves fall into the water one after another, and the river is slowly covered with red. The fiery red river and the fallen leaves are doomed to be a chaotic autumn.

On the riverside path, a group of people came from far away in the mist. In the middle of the team is a prison car, and in front of and behind the prison car are heavily guarded escort soldiers. Among the prison car was a man in rags but with great eyes. Looking carefully, behind the vicissitudes of smoke and dust, it turned out to be a face of only 16 years old. This is Xia Wanchun.

At this moment, the autumn wind is still blowing, the fallen leaves are still flying, and the rustling river is still rippling after the fallen leaves fall. Xia Wanchun's heart in the prison car is like a river.

From the day Xia Wanchun was born, he was a Ming Dynasty man in his bones, and he was deeply proud of this. From an early age, Yue Fei was his hero. He can't forget his mother's kind but determined tone when she talked about Yue Fei's story when she was a child. He can't forget the feeling of blood boiling when he first read "Man Jiang Hong". He can't forget the appreciation and expectation of his father who ran around and insisted on resisting Qing when he accidentally came home; He can't forget the teacher's sad and angry face when he recited "the old country around the mountain is around, and the tide hits the empty city and returns lonely." At that time, he planted a seed in his heart, which was nourished by countless experiences, so the seed took root and sprouted, and gradually became a giant tree, supporting his whole heart.

the prison car is still bumping. Xia Wanchun stretched out his hand and brushed away the straw stained on his forehead, and found the road of deja vu ahead. He couldn't help smiling bitterly, but revisiting the old place turned out to be such a general scene. Xia Wanchun's memory is more and more clear. One day when he was thirteen years old, he came home and told his mother with excitement and tension that he would join the anti-Qing team like his father. Mother was dazed for a moment, and then said nothing. Mother seemed particularly silent that day, so she let Xia Wanchun go to bed early after packing. Xia Wanchun didn't sleep that night, just silently listening to the sobbing under the lamp outside, and then unconsciously burst into tears.

A 13-year-old child should have the right to enjoy happiness, but he is forced by reality to live a life of "Wan Li going to Rongji and flying through the mountains". After three years of suffering, Xia Wanchun ended up trapped in this prison van. He really didn't know whether he should be thankful or sorry.

The road became more and more familiar, and Xia Wanchun saw the crowd. Suddenly, he found his mother in the crowd. He didn't know that three years could make a person so old. When the mist cleared, Xia Wanchun saw the confusion in his mother's eyes. She kept running after the prison car, shouting her son's name. Xia Wanchun had mixed feelings. He grabbed the railing of the prison car and shouted to his mother, "Be loyal to the country!" That was the last sentence that Xia Wanchun's mother said to him when he left home three years ago. He took it as his eternal belief. Mother heard and understood, because she stopped. At that moment, the mother whose hair was blown away by the wind stood by the bleak Songjiang River, and the fallen leaves behind her were intertwined. This picture was frozen in an instant and became eternal. Xia Wanchun couldn't stand the sadness, and finally turned to face the front, and she was in tears again for three years.

"After three years of detaining tourists, today it's south again. Endless tears, who said that the world is wide? Already know the way of the other springs, think of a farewell to hometown really heart trouble. On the day of Yi 'ao's return, the spirit flag will be seen in the air! " When Xia Wanchun almost roared out these four poems with all his strength, he smiled. At this time, he, like Yue Fei, the eternal hero in his heart, really had no regrets.

The flaming river water like life and the falling leaves like life are doomed to be a heroic season.

Comment: Appreciation means putting true self-emotion into the poet's blood to boil and burn together. According to the content and emotion of the original poem, combined with the poet's life experience and the background of writing this poem, the author associates and imagines it, sets up specific scenes and situations, and turns the concise poem into a dense prose. In addition, psychological description is particularly delicate and vivid. And this kind of psychology is integrated with all the scenery, people and things around it, so it is true and credible, and the lofty sentiments that are desperate but still heroic can also infect people. 3. An ancient poem rewritten narrative (45 words)

an autumn evening in the mountains (Tang), Wang Wei, after rain the empty mountain, stands autumnal in the evening.

moonlight in its groves of pine, stones of crystal in its brooks. The bamboo forest is loud and clear, the laundry girl comes back, the lotus leaf jiggle want to go up and down the canoe.

and what does it matter that springtime has gone, while you are here, O Prince of Friends?. The twilight scene, the first night of Shan Yu, is quiet and leisurely, fresh and pleasant.

The pine forest washed by rain is spotless and green. The rocks are particularly crystal clear, transparent and bright; Even the moonlight is as bright as washed; Shan Yu's stock springs suddenly flowed on the flagstones, and then meandered down the mountain stream, giving a clear and melodious singing, like a "serenade". The pulse of nature is beating. When the women from the sea of bamboo slowly move, they stir the bamboo soaked in the night dew, making a "rustling" sound, accompanied by their silvery laughter, which broke such a quiet night sky. Listen to the fluctuation of lotus leaves on the water surface, and the fishing boat goes down the river. This is that the fisherman wants to catch fish by moonlight tonight.

Although the fragrance of that spring has long gone, I am intoxicated by this wonderful autumn color and still yearn for a long stay. 4. Rewrite any ancient poem into prose

Rewrite Children Fishing

The sun is shining in March, and flowers are blooming. Willows spit out buds, grass sticks out its head, and flowers smile. A little boy with disheveled hair came to the river with a fish basket on his back. The boy had big eyes and a red face, and he was very cute.

The little boy sat down in the wild grass by the pond, and the wild flowers beside him were very lovely, including yellow, red and blue ... colorful and * * *. The lake is crystal clear, the rocks at the bottom of the lake are colorful, and the fish and shrimp can be seen clearly. The little boy threw the hook into the water and hooked the fish like an adult.

Come here for a while. An old gentleman passed by. He was wearing a robe, a straw hat and carrying a luggage. He looked around as if he had lost his way. He saw the little boy fishing and asked loudly, "Little brother, how can I get to Wangcun?" The little boy looked back and waved to him to come over. The old man stepped forward and leaned down. The little boy attached it to his ear and whispered, "Go over a mountain in front and go 2 meters west." The old man smiled at the little boy and watched him leave with his heart set on fishing.

The little boy was still fishing seriously. Suddenly, the line started to move and slowly sank. There must be a fish hooked! The little boy load, up a jilt, "wow! What a big fish! " The little boy smiled with relief, so he caught one fish after another.

The sun went down and the fish basket was full of fish. The little boy picked up the fish basket and hummed a tune, and went home along the mountain road. 5. Fifth grade composition An ancient poem "Qiu Si" was rewritten into a composition.

On an autumn evening, on a desolate ancient road, the west wind was blowing hard and the leaves were falling; On the roadside, on the old tree wrapped with dead vines, the birds have returned to their nests and crowed from time to time; Not far away, in the sparse cottage near the small bridge and flowing water, people are preparing dinner and cooking smoke. At this time, a man was walking slowly along the ancient road alone with a thin horse. It seems that this is a stranger. Where will he stay? It was only after this preparation that the author vividly revealed the theme of the work: a stranger glanced at the sunset that was about to sink in the west and could not help but sigh: "heartbroken people are in the end of the world."

At dusk, a crow returned to its nest on an old tree entangled with dead vines. The flying sand rolled across the town. A figure appeared at the end of the ancient road in the town, leading a thin horse with hunger and overwork. No, you shouldn't say that. It should be said that the thin horse is holding him. He, forced by his family, had to wander outside. His eyes have long lost the light of the past, and what replaced this light was confusion and hesitation. The river is sparkling in the setting sun, and the cabins of several families are small but particularly warm. Then he thought of that home, that big house; Thought of food, a table full of delicacies; I still think of my mother ... At the thought of my mother, his long-lost tears crossed my face.

he doesn't want to think about it, and he doesn't dare to think about it.

He was tired and fell down, at the end of the bridge; He is sleepy. He wants to sleep for a while, just for a while. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, so calm and serene, with a smile on his mouth.

The wind blew and flew back to the home he dreamed of going back to every night with his soul. 6. Rewritten into an ancient poem

One morning in early spring in February, I was awakened by a crisp birdsong. I opened my sleepy eyes, and the rising sun shone on me through the window, which made me very comfortable. I wanted to go out for a walk and feel the breath of spring.

when I came to the grassland, I found that the grass and flowers with the breath of children had drilled out of the mud, stretched out their waists, and sucked the dew of spring greedily. I couldn't help squatting down and gently stroking the green buds of the grass. At this time, a spring breeze blew, and the flowers swayed, releasing its charming fragrance. I smelled the flowers, which made me relaxed and happy, and suddenly felt that those blooming flowers added a lot of fun to spring.

There was a silvery sound in the sky. I looked up. Oh, it was a group of Oriole singing loudly. They swooped and rolled, which was fascinating. I walked and came to the bank. A row of willows hung their branches and swayed, just like a beautiful sister-in-law gently swinging her beautiful long hair in the spring breeze. The grass on the shore is covered with a layer of spring smoke, which makes me enjoy the beautiful scenery and the breath of spring. After a while, there was a burst of laughter in the distance. I took a closer look. Oh, a group of children came back from school early. They came to the grass, put their schoolbags under the tree, quickly picked up their kites, and took advantage of the good opportunity of the east wind to fly them quickly. Kites are all kinds of shapes, some are like a beautiful butterfly with wings one by one; Some are like a long dragon, walking in the clouds; Some are like a harp, and the two rows of wind chimes on the kite are really nice-looking at them, I seem to have returned to my childhood and flew kites with them.

In the sky, beautiful kites float with the wind; On the grass, innocent children laughed heartily. Walking through the cold winter and out of the hustle and bustle, I can't help but be full of spring, and casually sing: "The grass grows in February, and the willows are drunk with spring smoke. Children come back early from school and are busy flying kites in the east wind. " 7. Adapted from an ancient poem