Lyric prose about singing

Singing often brings pictures to my mind, and my emotions will be affected by the lyrics or music. Every note and sound of the song will make my mind relax and active. , one's own body beats, rests, one's own emotions cry, laugh. Below is a lyrical prose work about singing that I brought to you for your enjoyment.

Lyric prose about singing: The singing still lingers in my ears

In the twelfth lunar month of that year, there were always snowflakes like fish scales floating in the sky. One day at noon, I was curled up by the fire and taking a nap. Suddenly, a clear and melodious ringtone woke me up from my trance. I took a closer look, "Hey!" Isn't this teacher Xiaofen who was transferred to the city half a year ago? "Hello!", and a buzzing sound like a buzzing bee came from the microphone, and I opened my mouth to say: : Hello, Teacher Xiaofen! She choked and cried sadly. From her intermittent whining, I learned that she was suffering from an acute infectious disease (typhoid fever) and was being treated in the hospital.

When I had no time to comfort her, she suddenly said to me: "I'm going to die!" and immediately hung up the phone. Looking at the heavy mobile phone in my hand, I froze stupidly, and my thoughts took me to the summer vacation two years ago.

That summer vacation, I stayed at the school to nurse. One day, I was getting ready to go out when suddenly a fashionable girl wearing an elegant and fashionable lace dress and a black backpack came to our school. Before I had time to say hello to her, she came to me with a smile. After a few words of greeting, we already knew that she was a Chinese teacher who was about to be transferred to our school from a school in a remote mountainous area. She said she came to visit the school. Her profound elegance and gentleness made me unconsciously introduce her to the long history of the school and the surrounding cultural landscape. When talking to her about the school's teaching staff and the school's internal management, she had a happy smile on her face. When we were leaving, she looked at the school affectionately and then at me. From her affectionate eyes full of crystal tears, we could guess that this girl must have a hidden story that she couldn't tell. Looking at her hurriedly leaving figure, I felt melancholy for a while?

At the beginning of the new semester, she took the initiative to take on the Chinese teaching and class teacher work for the graduating class. The busy education and teaching work made her breathless. , sometimes I am too lazy to go home on weekends.

I am a person who has nowhere to escape and makes school my home. On countless bloody evenings, she invited me to sit opposite each other under the shade of the trees on campus, watching the sunset and the bright red sunset, and chatting about spiritual stories. Every time, she always felt an unforgettable feeling of compassion and resentment. When I learned that she was deeply immersed in the pain of lovelorn and unable to extricate herself, I felt sad for those reckless men who don't know how to show mercy. Facing a girl who has no self-confidence and is on the verge of mental collapse, I use my life experience to persuade her to face the reality, step out of the shadows, and accept the various challenges that come her way. Under my influence, she gradually began to rethink her life, her personality became cheerful, and she finally gained the confidence to be a good person.

She is an extremely kind-hearted girl. In the living dictionary of her life, she can’t find the word “jealous” about others, nor can she find the words to resent or curse others. She gets along well with the students and many students call her sister teacher. She loves to laugh, sing and dance. She often sings to the flowing clouds in the high sky about the charm of spring, the fragrance of summer, the heaviness of autumn, and the warmth of winter.

I thought, could such a sentimental, caring, connotative and energetic young female teacher be so easily defeated by the disease? A feeling of pity and pity suddenly rose in the depths of my soul. , without any explanation, I put on a cotton coat and asked a colleague next to me to brave the wind and snow and go to the county hospital far away from the school.

When I walked into the hospital, I saw her lying on the bed with an infusion tube in her left hand. The white quilt tightly wrapped her weak body, reflecting her sallow face. The medicine in the infusion tube dripped into her blood drop by drop, overcoming the stubborn demons that challenged her and awakening her trance.

We stood in front of her. She was not surprised, her expression was dull. I gently called her name, and her throat suddenly became choked with tears.

Seeing us smiling at her, she pursed her lips and made a trembling sound like a bee buzzing. Her late and melancholy eyes made me not know how to comfort her.

I did not comfort her with my usual kind words and deeds, but stood in the middle of the ward with my head lowered and silently prayed to God to protect her and keep her safe and live a long life. I don’t know whether it was my piety that moved God, or the God who controlled her destiny moved her compassion. Her eyebrows suddenly stretched out, and she moved her weak body vigorously to get up. Seeing her struggling, I stopped her movement and comforted her to build up her faith in fighting the disease. She listened to my words, looked at me like a child and nodded silently. Seeing her confident eyes, my anxious heart finally felt at ease.

Moving my feet like roots, I gently approached the window sill and pushed open the closed window lattice. The snow outside was falling heavier and heavier, and the white snow reflected in the ward. Her waxy face became even more haggard and pale, but her deep eyes revealed the brilliance of perseverance and even self-improvement, and a sweet smile appeared on her cheeks. Seeing her mood suddenly brighten, my hanging heart finally fell to the ground, and then I waved to her and walked out of the door. Suddenly, bursts of soft singing floated from the ward. I stopped and listened. It was Wei Wei's song "Love Dedication". The low singing expressed her infinite gratitude to all the people who cared about her life. , interprets her detached and ordinary compassionate heart, and also embodies her pursuit and infinite yearning for the beauty of the world.

?This is the call of the heart, this is the dedication of love, this is the spring breeze of the world, this is the source of life? As long as everyone gives a little love, the world will become a beautiful world.

Fading away, the intermittent singing is still lingering in my ears.

A lyrical prose work about singing: The singing of parents . It's past ten o'clock in the evening. In my hometown in the countryside, the unique noise during the busy farming season gradually quieted down. My parents and I have been busy all day. We are very tired. I was half lying on the bed and just opened the book. , when I was about to read a book, suddenly, a burst of singing came.

?The wheat seedlings are fragrant, the cauliflowers are yellow, and Chairman Mao has come to our farm.

I listened carefully, and this was the singing coming from my parents’ room. As a son, you will never be wrong in identifying the voices of your parents. Yes, it must be their voices! When I heard this singing, I felt particularly shocked and strange! Because this was the first time in my life that I heard my parents singing.

It’s been more than thirty years since I can remember, and I really didn’t know that my parents could still sing! When I was a child, I often heard my mother and father arguing constantly about trivial family matters. Sound; I have been living in junior high school since I was 16 years old. Maybe because I am too busy with work, I have rarely returned to my hometown. It has been twenty-four years, more than 8,600 days! But the number of days I have been back to my hometown to be with my parents has increased. Up, I estimate it may not be more than a hundred days. As a son, I feel really ashamed!

My parents are the same age as *** Heguo, and they are both sixty years old this year. They have worked hard all their lives, and their gray hair has come out early. My father is taller, thin but still strong, and is even thinner now. In the early years, my mother was tall and slightly fat. When I came back from Guangdong last year, I found that she was much thinner. . What I was most worried about during my stay in Guangdong was that my mother's blood pressure was always on the high side and she would feel dizzy at every turn. Every time I called my hometown, the first thing I asked about was the physical condition of my parents, so I kept telling my brother: You must take good care of your parents, and you must tell me if anything happens at home.

My parents are all old farmers. They have little education and cannot read a few words. This is because their family is poor and they have barely read a few days of schooling.

During the summer vacation a few years ago, my daughter Mengmeng, who is in elementary school, followed me back to my hometown.

When I was doing my homework, I asked my mother a very simple word. My mother said that she didn't know how to do it. Mengmeng said to her mother naughtily: "Grandma can't even recognize the word "9". Who told you that you didn't study hard when you were a child?" Her mother said with a smile. Mengmeng said: Our family was too poor at that time and we only studied for three years. Now we have almost forgotten about it. ?Later, I remember my mother once said to me: ?When I was studying, your grandfather reluctantly said, ?What kind of books do girls study?? Your father is a little better than me. He studied for one more year, so he only studied for four years before coming back to herd sheep. ?

Alas! In that poverty-stricken era, children from poor families were hungry and full, and even the minimum survival was not guaranteed, so why should they go to school? Big concept books, revolution, That’s all a matter for the rich!

A CCTV public service advertisement put it well: Parents are their children’s first teachers. ?

Although my parents are ordinary old farmers, they have the unique noble qualities of Guanzhong farmers: love for neighbors, integrity and selflessness, simplicity and kindness, diligence and kindness, and tenacity and perseverance. It is their virtues that have a profound impact on me, and they have penetrated into our young hearts silently. Yes, when we came to this world, opened our eyes for the first time, and looked at the world curiously, the first people we saw were our parents. Lying in mother's arms, sucking mother's milk, accepting the nurturing of parents, listening to parents' breathing, and accepting the caress and edification of parents. The brilliance of parents makes them the cornerstone and designers of the formation of children's psychology, personality and thoughts.

I am proud, I am glad, I am the son of an old farmer! It is the noble qualities of the old farmers in Guanzhong that are unique to their neighbors: love for neighbors, integrity and selflessness, simplicity and kindness, diligence and kindness, tenacity and perseverance, which have a subtle influence on Holding me, shaping me, perfecting me. This has enabled me to stand up again and again in the troughs of life, overcome one adversity after another, and go on tenaciously. These excellent qualities will stay with me throughout my life and benefit me throughout my life, forever and ever

In fact, there is one of the most beautiful voices in the world, and that is the voice of my parents!

Although the songs my parents sang were not up to standard and not very nice, I knew they were songs from the bottom of their hearts. They have been arguing for nearly forty years, just like Wen Li and Tong Zhi in the TV series "Golden Wedding". Perhaps this is a kind of harmony that emerges after decades of running-in between husband and wife. Isn’t this kind of harmony between parents and parents the family harmony that we as children expect?

In the past few years, with the implementation of the national policy of benefiting farmers, and the addition of our brothers Thanks to our efforts, the family situation has gradually improved and the family has become more harmonious. Mom and Dad are naturally in a better mood and want to sing.

Mom and Dad! The reality is very helpless! I really want to Come back to you often and listen to the songs you sing from the heart

Lyrical prose works about singing: Singing

The memory left by touching singing is long term. No matter which exciting song, wherever you first heard it, the scene there will remain deeply in your memory. The environment, weather, people, colors, and even the feelings when listening to music will be imprinted in the depths of memory, like a film of sound captured in the memory. That film is purely painted with sound, sound paints colors, sound paints images, and sound paints emotions. Whenever I hear that kind of singing again, the video of that sound will be played scene by scene. "The clouds are as brilliant as brocade, and there are peaches and plums and red apricots." A song like "Spring Flower", which is not clever, brings a whole set of life in the enlightenment school after the Revolution of 1911. ?We are the pioneers?, reflecting an era of stormy times. "My home is on the Songhua River in Northeast China", which depicts a turbulent scene in the early days of the Anti-Japanese War. ?

I think of Yan’an’s singing with infinite nostalgia.

The song of Yan'an is the song of revolution, the song of battle, the song of labor, and the song of an extremely broad range of people.

Lenin said in an article commemorating Eugene Baudier, the author of "The Internationale": "A conscious worker, no matter which country he comes to, no matter where fate throws him, no matter how he feels that he is a foreigner, Even though he doesn't understand the language, has no relatives, and is far away from his motherland, he can find comrades and friends for himself by relying on the familiar tunes of "The Internationale". ?We can understand it this way: "The Internationale" is the most common voice and the most common language of the proletariat around the world. We can also look at Yan'an's songs in this way. In Yan'an, "The Internationale" is sung most solemnly and universally.

Let’s think back to the “Production Cantata” conducted by Comrade Xi Xinghai. It was a night in the early summer of 1939, on Pingba at the foot of the West Mountain outside the north gate of Yan'an City. It was brightly lit by gas lamps. With Gaslight as the center, tens of thousands of people gathered. The impression seems to be that they are all young people. The few people who are middle-aged and above also have the mood of young people, the ambition and courage of young people. I remember that at that time I had just returned to Yan'an from the front. Even though I had only been away for four or five months, it felt like I was returning home after a long absence. My heart was warm and I felt friendly to everyone I saw. Regardless of whether you know someone or not, say hello to everyone you see. The men and women at the venue were all wearing gray cloth military uniforms, simple and neat, and they were all so beautifully dressed. Everyone was talking and laughing, and it was bustling like a happy festival. Yes, it is a happy festival, the first May Fourth Youth Day. It was that night that we listened to the famous report of the great leader Comrade Mao Zedong: "The Direction of the Youth Movement."

At this time, after the report was finished, and everyone was extremely excited after applauding and cheering enthusiastically. It was really "high-spirited and high-spirited"; but in the midst of everyone's intoxicated happiness, there was no such appropriate word to describe it. Everyone chewed and recalled the profound meaning and prudent sentences in the report: The final dividing line between revolutionary, non-revolutionary, and counter-revolutionary intellectuals depends on whether they are willing and able to integrate with the workers and peasants. ?Most of the people attending the meeting today come from thousands of miles away. Regardless of whether they are male or female, whether their surname is Zhang or Li, they are working and farming. Everyone is of the same mind. ? Chewing and recalling these sentences, while waiting for the chorus to start.

Open air venue. To the west are dark mountains, to the east is the flowing Yanhe River, and across the river is Qingliang Mountain. To the south is the faint ancient city and the parapet on the city. To the north is a road that runs along the Yanhe River, winds through Lanjiaping and Diqinglao, and leads directly to Yangguan Avenue on three sides. When the chorus started, it was probably already eleven o'clock at night.

At that extraordinary moment, in that memorable place, I heard singing for the first time:

Come in February, it’s so beautiful,

Every household is busy farming. ?

Comrade Xi Xinghai’s conductor was so grand, with graceful and generous postures; his movements were rhythmic and emotional. As the baton moved, hundreds of people, no, thousands of people, not even, it seemed that all the people present, tens of thousands of people, sang together. The singing was melodious and simple, like earnest teachings and eloquent conversation. It sung into people's hearts and sung out from their hearts, filling the entire square. The sound waves hit the mountains, and the mountains reverberated; the sound waves crossed the Yanhe River, and the river performed accompaniment; they echoed back and forth several times, until they spread to distant places. Who on the front lines and behind the scenes of the Anti-Japanese War has not heard or sung the kind of songs sung from Yan'an?

Singing in Yan'an has become a custom. There is singing in the army, singing in schools, and also singing in factories, rural areas, and government agencies. Every time there is a meeting, teams from all walks of life come and go back singing. I often sing before meetings and still sing during breaks. There is almost no gathering without singing. Lenin wrote about the German workers' choir in the 1870s, saying that they met in a dark, fume-filled back room of a tavern in Frankfurt, and the room was lit with tallow candles. How difficult it must be to sing in these dark times. In Yan'an, we are in a liberated and free land. Why don't we sing collectively and loudly anytime and anywhere? Every time we sing, we sing in harmony, encourage each other to sing, and compete with each other to sing.

Sometimes it almost becomes a river of songs, an ocean of songs, with waves of singing rising again and again, singing one after another, singing in chorus, and singing in turns, making it difficult for you to distinguish the beginning from the end and the edge. That's called singing to the fullest!

When singing, a team has a conductor. The conductor is usually versatile. He can make his team sing neatly, powerfully and brilliantly, and he also has ways to motivate them. The other teams sang again and again, enjoying themselves. I love that in a conference with thousands or tens of thousands of people, a conductor points forward with his outstretched right hand and sings the first syllable of a song to set the tone, and the whole audience can sing with the same voice. After a song was finished, the conductor retracted his arms forcefully, and the singing suddenly stopped. This simply turns singing into a thought, a language, and even a command. Thousands of people can be united and organized by singing, marching at a unified pace, and listening to unified orders to fight.

Yan’an songs also have traditions, which are northern Shaanxi folk songs.

"Xintianyou" sings high-pitched and distant, while "Lan Huahua" sings lingering and plaintive. Most of them sing about love, tell about separation, and accuse the old society of exploitation and oppression. In the past, northern Shaanxi was vast and sparsely populated, and it would take a long walk to reach a village. Villages often only had a few households scattered along the mountains and ravines. Working in the fields, or driving animals to carry their feet, two or three people would walk in groups with the dumb animals. They were lonely enough to express their feelings that had to be expressed, so they sang folk songs. The singing is very long, so it can be heard very far away. People have already heard the singing before they see it; or people have turned around the top of the mountain and are out of sight, but the singing is still lingering and lingering.

Times have changed, and new tunes and new content have been added to Yan'an's songs. At that time twenty years ago, we mainly sang about revolution, singing about leaders, singing about resistance, and singing about production. The songs sung in Yan'an soon spread to various anti-Japanese base areas, and later to liberated areas one after another. After Japan surrendered, wherever you heard the singing of Yan'an, you were about to be liberated. The songs of Yan'an directly became the harbinger of liberation. For example, the song "Three Major Disciplines, Eight Points of Attention" has been the vanguard of the Red Army, the Eighth Route Army, the New Fourth Army and the People's Liberation Army since it was sung in the Soviet area. Wherever the people are suffering the most and where the battle is the hardest, this song will arrive first. Hearing this song, even children knew that the people's savior was coming, Chairman Mao's team was coming. It is the torch in the night, the coal in the snow, and the rain in the drought. People listened to this song with laughter and tears of joy. I even developed a habit of listening to others singing this song as if I was singing it myself. Hearing the sound, I seemed to see the team at the same time, and saw the crowds on both sides of the team crowding to welcome the team. In the crowd, the elder ones are aunts and uncles, and those of the same age are eldest brothers, sisters-in-law, brothers, and sisters, all of whom are relatives. It’s as if the team is the crowd at the same time, and the crowd is the team at the same time. It’s impossible to tell the difference. I like this song even if I sing it a thousand times or listen to it ten thousand times.

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