When I was young, there was no TV or video games, and even a movie had a rare chance to see. My game is Tang poetry.
The mother did not know where to find a broken old Tang Poetry 300, and taught me four and a half years old and a one-and-a-half-year-old brother. “I don’t know how to sleep in the spring, smell the ostrich everywhere, how come the wind and rain, how much does it cost?” is the first poem in my life.
I still can’t read. When my mother reads a sentence, she follows it. Like a pile of wood, she puts a poem in a small head.
It is these twenty words that seem to understand and understand, and they open a poetic door of birds and flowers.
My mother is a nurse and has always been a professional woman. In those two or three years, it was also a difficult housewife career for my mother. I also clearly remember that when I recited poems, my mother squatted in the kitchen and pinched out a hand-made doll, a rabbit bag with bean paste; a small fish bag with sesame stuffed, and a bird, a flower. , all kinds of, put into the steamer, just when we finished a five or seven, the drum stuffed steamed buns. Being able to accurately recite the poems, you can get a reward for a rabbit bag or a fish bag. The hot buns are held in your hand, but you still have a different kind of poetry.
After dinner, my parents took me and my brother’s hand and went for a walk. We recited the poems that we were familiar with during the day, and gave them to my father. I want to play a thousand miles. Oh, I kicked a stone farther, and went up to the next level, catching up and playing farther, happy, hehe!
Often, I met strangers who were not acquainted, because the two used to illuminate the children’s voice, and stopped as the voice of the children of the songs. After listening to them, I saw the surprise and appreciation in their eyes. My brother and I seemed to be wearing the most beautiful. clothes.
After the mother worked again, no one led us to read poetry, and I still love poetry. The teachers in the school stipulated that students should recite poems, and the students were sorrowful and miserable. The torture they have for me is so happy for me.
During the girlhood, I bought my first choice in the book fair organized by the “International School” that had not been dismantled at that time. “Three Li Ci Xuan” was chosen by Li Bai, Li Houzhu and Li Qingzhao. I stipulate myself, I must recite a slogan every day. The choice of the three poets is a sentimental sentiment, which makes me feel sentimental, sorrowful and self-pity.
There is a classmate who is happy in the town, like a ginkgo tree in the sun, screaming, and a gust of laughter flashes through the wind. She was surprised to notice that I was lost, so once I had a birthday, she copied a poem to me on the card:
Spring has a hundred flowers and autumn, and there are cool winds in winter and snow in winter;
If you have nothing to worry about, it is a good time on earth.
What is the sorrow inside? Repenting? Sentimental? Why don’t you miss a friend who is far away? Don’t reminisce about the lost things? Why is there no helplessness in old age? Why don’t you sigh without me? Why did this poem read, and I had a lot of joy in my life, so I couldn’t help but want to go out and feel the wind and snow all year round, feeling alive is a kind of happiness.
Since then, I have realized that the world of poetry is vast, and it is not just a sentimental sentiment.
I have never had a motto. When I am troubled or troubled, I don’t ask God to ask for it. I am used to reading poetry. The poets never regretted, giving their life a revelation with their life stories.
Which season do you like all year round?
Wang Guowei is a supporter of the spring: “The four moments are cute and spring, and the matter can be mad.” Spring plants struggled from the snow and ice, and they came out, waiting for the warm rain, and quickly sprouted and grew up, but after a few days and nights, they spread the whole green. As long as we still have a passionate goal and a youthful madness, we can break through the frost of life and return to the young age without fear.
From ancient times to today, people use various methods to try to retain their youth, and hope to keep the vitality of spring day forever. However, the best rejuvenation technique, in fact, is not a false request, as long as the fire in our hearts does not go out, it can breed a grassland.
In the early summer, Sima Guang saw a golden flower: “There is no catkins rising from the wind, only sunflowers are leaning toward the sun.” He was touched by the persistence of sunflowers and regarded this flower as the power of summer. The difference between catkins and sunflowers lies in the fact that the catkins flutter in the wind and have no fixed direction; the sunflowers are wherever the sun is, its faces will turn there, so persistent.
When life goes to the summer, about Mo can find himself and find the goal worth fighting. People with clear directions, like sunflowers under the sun, can bloom. When people see sunflowers, they can get an inspiring encouragement.
What kind of mood is Tao Yuanming’s “Under the Chrysanthemum, and I see Nanshan leisurely?” This is not only a mood, but also a realm. Autumn is the moment of harvest, and it is also the season of rewarding. On the one hand, it can harvest its own cultivation. On the one hand, it can also appreciate the higher achievements of others. It is not a madness, it is a good time to learn leisurely.
”Let’s come to the snow in the evening, I can drink a cup without it.” This is the poem that Bai Juyi invited friends to come to drink. The temperature before the snow, the cold and the bones, the most difficult, however, the poet is warming the wine on the red clay stove, invite friends to come to drink, unlimited warmth and romance. Even if it is the winter of life, you can’t give up the pleasures and friends, and you can’t give up all the joys of life.
These poems bring us not only sentimental affection, but also inspiration from the mind and wisdom. We must have one, or a few poems, to be put into the bag of life, enough to resist this ever-changing world.
I often think of childhood, carrying poems, kicking stones, running in the dark.
Let us read a poem, kick off the frustrations and worries, and give ourselves a good season of birds and flowers.