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Appreciation of Chang Xia's Prose
Appreciation of Chang Xia's prose. Our country's culture is profound and has a long history. Prose is created by modern writers, so we should appreciate Chang Xia's prose. I collected and sorted out the relevant materials about the appreciation of the prose in the long summer for everyone. Let's have a look.
Appreciation of Chang Xia's Prose 1 Appreciation of Chang Xia's Prose
This season has passed a long summer, and the temperature suddenly soared to 37. 3℃, suddenly dropped to 17℃ One day, like a roller coaster, the flowers and plants that have passed the temperature test became more and more charming. The students in the street stepped on gorgeous sandals, the dresses were charming, and the colors of shorts and gauze clothes were dazzling. The overflowing youth has formed a beautiful landscape and locked people's eyes.
On weekends, the machine shakes water and sings, takes care of flowers and plants, prunes branches and leaves, sprays drugs, waters and wipes, and goes on in an orderly way. The leaves are green and thick, the water drops are condensed, the green is about to drip, and the water is shining. By the way, if someone pays attention, they will dance on all fours, swing from side to side, stretch their long necks, hold their heads high, chase their eyes and try their best to show themselves.
Listening to the lingering sound of the guqin, I packed my pants with a faint cigarette. A few days ago, because I was lazy, I actually needed to iron several pieces and rarely wore pants, but my husband still had to tidy up and be a good wife.
I am a vegetarian, playing with tea sets. A few days ago, my husband accidentally got a new tea, Spring Tea Tieguanyin. Knowing that I am addicted to tea, I hurried home happily. I like it very much. The color is sand green, the tea strips are curly, fat and uniform, and the overall shape is like dragonfly head, spiral body and frog leg. The soup has a faint honey fragrance, the tea soup is golden, the entrance is soft, soft and sweet, and the limbs are comfortable.
In the morning, the breeze is blowing, comfortable and refreshing. Summer has arrived, but spring is reluctant, so this charming season stays alternately. In the afternoon, the wind is warm, the sun is dazzling, and the roses on the wrought iron fence beside the street corner trail cling to each other, nowhere to be found and dense.
Clusters form a flower wall. Suddenly, one day, Bai Yutang was like a bean, and its branches were full of brilliant patches. There is indeed the artistic conception of "dense leaves and heavy flowers, thick flowers and red flowers", but the roses in this frame are all ivory flowers with goose yellow stamens, elegant and charming, and occasionally a pink rose jumps into them, which is very eye-catching. The strip is self-expanding, and there are several flowers. The breeze is shallow and the fragrance of flowers keeps flying around. "Clouds fall, leaving a lingering fragrance in January."
Appreciation of Long Xia Prose (Ⅱ) Poems of Summer
Spring, like a great parallel prose; Summer is like a sonnet.
For a long time, I don't care about cicadas anymore. My ears are busy listening to the sound of cars, the knock on the door of variety shows, the impatient voice of the conductor, and the whispers of friends attached to my ears ... I should find a clear and clean river to wash my ears, because I can't hear cicadas.
So, I don't know when summer crossed the threshold. Until that day, I was taking a class in the history of literature. Suddenly, all the cicadas cried at the same time, which startled me. My pen gesture is stuck in the air, and I can't comment on the invisible and intangible voices in front of me! What a surprise! It attracted my whole thought, just like iron sand rushing to a magnet. But when I held my breath and listened attentively, suddenly, I stopped talking. This cicada scared me again! Cicada tied my heart tightly like a rope, and suddenly it was released without warning, so my heart spread out defenseless, such as struggling to jump into the sky and accidentally falling on the beach!
I don't know when I crossed the threshold in summer!
This is a window with leaves. The round and flat leaves are like flower-and-bird paintings on the door curtain, and of course they are more lively. As soon as the wind blows, they swing with brushes. I seem to hear laughter, much like a group of little urchins swinging in the game! The wind is a behind-the-scenes worker, responsible for pushing them into the sky, and cicadas are cheerleaders, trying to make a sound on the branches. There is no referee.
I can't help thinking of my childhood, my childhood. Because these sweet notes are too like a tape, let me pick up the sounds of my childhood one by one.
The first thing I picked up was cicada.
At that time, the most exciting thing was not listening to cicadas but catching them. Children always like to enjoy everything that makes them curious, and I am no exception. In primary school, there are afternoon classes, which is the privilege of children in grade one and grade two. So I was still young. There are four roads to school. One is along the river. The trees on the shore are tall and the shade is dense, which often covers half the sky. Although there are also rural farmhouses nearby, they are inaccessible. For us, it is really far and deep, which makes people feel scared. However, there are always many trips a week, especially in summer. In the afternoon shift, we always go that way together when we call our friends, with no other purpose, just to catch cicadas.
You can catch cicadas, but you can't catch cicadas.
Summer is the season of sound, with rain, thunder, frogs, birds and cicadas. Cicada singing is enough to represent summer, so summer is like a quatrain.
Recite quatrains, or add a few words to sing. Cicada is the chorus of nature; Beautiful timbre, clear rhythm, recited a quatrain. This quatrain is not found in Selected Poems of Tang Poetry and Song Poetry, nor does Wang Wei, nor does Li Bai. It's a lyric poem because cicadas feel the same about seasons and midsummer. Poetry has its own flavor of life, a little simple and almost natural, and a little broad and elegant. More often, especially when they all stop their voices, I feel as if there are many heroic and tragic stories to tell in their minds. Perhaps, it is a lyric frontier poem.
Listen to cicadas in the morning and think of their nobleness. Cicada should be a hermit among winged people! Live high in the treetops, eat wind and drink dew, and don't eat fireworks. The cicada's singing is particularly light in the dim morning light, and it seems that there is nothing at a distance. After a cicada singing, my heart became transparent and clear, and I had an understanding of "where to make dust". Cicadas are Zen.
There was cicada singing in the afternoon, but it was a little noisy. Like a group of minstrels, they met unexpectedly in the shade and rested leisurely. Lala miscellaneous, they talk about the sky and inquire about the four seasons, but no one wants to write poetry, so there is no rhythm and rhythm. They exchange the direction of wandering, but they are not enthusiastic, because "wandering" actually has no direction.
At dusk, I like to listen to cicadas while walking. Walking into the world of cicadas is like enjoying a concert, if you know how to listen. Sometimes we complain that the world is getting ugly and there is too much noise in modern civilization. In fact, in a pool of turbid water, isn't there a pool of clear water? There are also so-called "sounds of nature" interwoven with machine sounds in the sound screen. We are just so busy that we miss the good things and don't know it. I am too focused on myself, and the lens of life only captures the big close-ups of my emotions, and everything else is the same background. If we can take a step back and look around, we may find that the whole pattern has changed. What has changed is not the pattern itself, but our vision. So, once in a while, slow down and let your eyes browse the world at will with the greatest possibility, and we will suddenly realize; The world is still dressing itself up. What can be more refreshing than listening to cicadas while walking? According to friends and relatives, this is our common experience. It's not difficult for us to listen to anything, is it?
Listening is also an art, and the vastness of nature is the best audio equipment. Imagine teams of male cicadas folding their wings and standing on different treetops, just like members of a symphony orchestra standing on the stage. As long as the cicada makes a sound, the sound will come out of the cage. They dedicate the most beautiful timbre to you, every word is true, and every sentence comes from Tian Dan. They have a distinct sense of rhythm, and different rhythms express different moods. Sometimes it is a chorus, sometimes it is a chorus, and there are also solos, including chords, which are clear from high to low. They don't need conductor or music. They are born singers. Singing is like flowing water, which makes people feel worried and swim in it. Another example is Peng Tao, and another example is the stormy waves, beating the emotions that have settled in your heart. In an instant, you feel that cicadas are like wild waves, robbing you of the faint sadness that you hold tightly in your hand. When cicadas have a sweet and gentle language like night, it should be a love song! Always three sentences, just like that endless lingering. However, the urgency of cicada singing suddenly came to an abrupt end at the highest tone, more like a splendid article was suddenly torn, and the sonorous words scattered all over the floor were thrown to the ground like gold, and then the silence became fragmented, leaving people with some disappointment and some sadness. Isn't it a song of life? Cicada.
And the cicada sound is still the same year after year, still like a quatrain, plain and even.
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