Li Bai was about to leave in his boat,
when he heard the sound of singing on the shore.
The Peach Blossom Pond is a thousand feet deep.
It is not as good as Wang Lun's sentiments.
Mountain Walking
The rocky paths of the distant cold mountains are slanting,
and there are people's homes where the white clouds are born.
Parking in the car, I love the maple forest at night,
and the frosty leaves are red in February.
Bamboo and stone
Biting the green mountain and not letting go
Roots are in the broken rock
A thousand trials and tribulations are still strong
Let the wind blow from the east, the west, the south, and the north
Twilight River Singing
The remnant of the sun is spreading on the water
Half of the river is in the red river
Pitifully, I am sorry to hear about the night of the third day of the ninth month
Dew looks like a pearl and the moon looks like a bow.
The night of the first three days of September
The dew is like a pearl and the moon is like a bow
I stayed at the Jiande River
I moved my boat to the smoky islet.
The sky is low and the river is clear and the moon is near
The Song of a Wanderer
The thread in the hands of a loving mother is the thread on the body of a wanderer.
The thread in the hands of a loving mother, the clothes on the body of a traveling son.
The song of the wandering son, The mother's thread in her hand, and the son's clothes on his back!
Mahogany
Mahogany countryside next to the old house. There is a very large open space, rented to people to plant mahogany saplings.
Mahogany is a special tree, beautiful tree, tall and straight, once upon a time, the old family forest planted many, has grown into a few feet high a forest. So when I saw the saplings of mahogany only up to my knees, it was a little hard to believe my eyes.
The planting of mahogany seedlings is a very tall man, he bent down to plant the tree, it feels like a rice planting.
After the saplings were planted, he often came to water them. Strangely enough, he did not come regularly, sometimes every three days, sometimes every five days, and sometimes only once every ten days; the amount of watering was also not certain, and sometimes watered more, sometimes less.
When I lived in the countryside, I would take a walk every day on the path beside the mahogany saplings, and the man who planted the saplings would occasionally come to the house for tea. Sometimes he came in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, and the time was not always the same.
I felt increasingly strange.
What was even stranger was that the mahogany saplings sometimes wilted inexplicably. So, he would always bring a few seedlings to replant when he came.
I first thought he was too lazy to water the trees sometimes after so long.
But how does a lazy person know how many trees will wither?
Then I thought he was too busy to do anything regularly.
But how can a busy person do things so calmly?
I couldn't help but ask him, what time should it come? How often to water? Why does mahogany wilt for no reason? If you come to water every day, mahogany seedlings should not wither, right?
The man who planted the trees laughed and said, "Planting trees is not planting vegetables or rice, planting trees is a hundred-year foundation, unlike green vegetables that can be harvested in a few weeks. Therefore, the trees themselves have to learn to find water in the soil. My watering is just imitating God's rain. God can't count the rain, how many days does it rain? How often does it rain? In the morning or in the afternoon? How much at a time? If it cannot draw water to grow in this uncertainty, the sapling will naturally wither away. However, if you find water in the midst of uncertainty and try desperately to take root, you will have no problem growing into a hundred-year old tree."
The tree planter said at length, "If I come to water every day, and regularly water a certain amount every day, the sapling will develop a dependent heart, and the roots will float on the surface, unable to go deep underground, and once I stop watering, the sapling will wither even more. The saplings that are lucky enough to survive will also fall over when they are caught in a violent storm."
I was very touched by his words. Not only trees, people are the same, people who live in uncertainty, can withstand the test of life better, will exercise an independent heart. In the uncertainty, deepen the feeling of the environment and emotional perception, you can learn to convert very little nutrients into a huge energy, and strive to grow.
Now, the mahogany seedlings in front of the window have grown to be as tall as the roof, so elegant and comfortable, showing vitality.
The man who planted the tree no longer comes, and the mahogany will not wither.
The Little Girl Who Sold Matches
It was cold, snowing, and almost dark. It was the last day of the year - Christmas Eve. On this cold and dark night, a little girl with no hat, gloves, or shoes was walking slowly down the street. She had come out of her house with a pair of slippers on, but what was the use? They were a very large pair of slippers-so large that they had always been worn by her mother. As she crossed the street, two carriages came speeding by, frightening her so much that she ran off her shoes. One could not be found in any way, and the other was called to a boy who picked it up and ran off with it. He said he could use it as a cradle when he had a child in the future.
The little girl had to walk barefoot, a pair of small feet frozen red and green. She had many matches in her old apron and a handful in her hand. All day long, no one had bought her a match, no one had given her a penny.
Poor little girl! She was cold and hungry, and shivered as she walked forward. Snowflakes fell on her long blonde hair, which looked beautiful in curls over her shoulders, but she paid no attention to them. Lights were coming through every window, and the smell of roast goose was wafting down the street, for it was Christmas Eve - and she could not forget that.
She sat down in the corner of a house and curled her legs into a ball. She felt colder. She didn't dare go home, because she hadn't sold a single match, hadn't earned a single penny, and Papa would surely beat her. Besides, it was as cold at home as it was in the street. There was only a roof over their heads, and though the biggest cracks had been plugged with grass and rags, the wind could still pour in.
Her little hands were almost frozen. Ah, even a tiny match would do her good! Would she dare to warm her little hands by drawing a small match from a large handful and rubbing it against the wall? She drew one out at last. Giggle! The match flared up and burst into flame! She gathered her little hand over the flame. What a warm, bright flame, almost like a tiny candle. It was a strange firelight! The little girl felt as if she were sitting in front of a big fireplace, fitted with shining brass feet and brass handles, and burning brightly and warmly, and how cozy it was! Alas, what was the matter? She had just put out her feet to warm them too, when the matches went out and the fireplace disappeared. She sat there with only a burnt matchstick in her hand.
She rubbed another one. The match flared up and gave off a bright light. The light fell on the wall, which suddenly became as transparent as muslin, and she could see all the way into the room. The table was covered with a snow-white tablecloth and set with delicate plates and bowls, and the roast goose, its belly filled with apples and plums, was bubbling with flavor. Even better the goose jumped down from the plate, knife and fork stuck in its back, and waddled across the floor all the way to the poor little girl. By this time the matches had gone out again, and there was only a thick, cold wall before her.
She struck another match. This time, she was sitting under a beautiful Christmas tree. The tree was bigger and more beautiful than the one she had seen through the glass door of the rich merchant's house last Christmas. Thousands of bright candles were lit on its bright green branches, and many beautiful colorful pictures, just like the ones hanging in the store windows, were winking at her. The little girl reached out her hand to the pictures. At that moment, the match went out again. The candles on the Christmas tree rose higher and higher and finally became stars twinkling in the sky. One of the stars fell, cutting a thin red light across the sky.
"There's a what's-his-name dying." The little girl said. Her grandmother, the only one who loved her, had told her when she was alive that when a star fell, a soul was going to God.
She rubbed another match on the wall. This time, the match illuminated all around her. Grandma appeared in the bright light, so gentle and loving.
"Grandma!" The little girl called up, "Ah! Please take me away! I know that as soon as the matches are out, you will be gone, like the warm fireplace, the fragrant roast goose, the beautiful Christmas tree, will be gone!"
She hurriedly rubbed a large handful of matches to keep her grandmother. The big handful of matches gave off a strong light that shone as bright as day! Grandma had never been so tall and beautiful as she was now. She picked up the little girl and held her in her arms. And they both flew away, higher and higher, in light and joy, to the place where there was no cold, no hunger, and no pain.
Early the next morning this little girl sat in the corner, her cheeks red and a smile on her lips. She was dead, frozen to death on the old New Year's Eve. The New Year's sun came up and shone on her tiny body. The little girl sat there with a burnt match-stalk in her hand.
"She was trying to warm ...... herself," people said. Who knows how beautiful she had seen, how happy she had been, following her grandmother into the happiness of the New Year.
My uncle, Mr. Lu Xun
When my uncle, Mr. Lu Xun, was alive, I was too young to know who Lu Xun was, thinking that my uncle was just that, an uncle, the same as anyone's uncle. When my uncle passed away, his body was lying in the auditorium of the Universal Funeral Home, and many people came to memorialize him and pay tribute to him, some even lost their voices and cried. Countless elegiac couplets hung all over the walls, and wreaths of all sizes were piled up all over the room. There were workers, students, and all kinds of people who sent elegies and wreaths. At that time I was a little surprised, why uncle was loved by so many people? I stared blankly at the people who came and went to offer condolences, and thought that I would never see my uncle's face, hear his voice, and not get his caresses, and the teardrops fell one by one.
In the first month of the year of my uncle's death, one day, a Saturday afternoon, my mom and dad took me to my uncle's house. In those days, every weekend, the three of us sisters took turns following our mom and dad to our uncle's house for a reunion. On this day at the dinner table, my uncle talked to me about the stories and characters in Water Margin. I don't know how my uncle knew that I had read Water Margin, but my father probably told him about it. To be honest, I read Water Margin in one gulp, paying attention only to the tense and moving plots; I couldn't understand the personalities of the heroes and the complexity of the content, and sometimes I even put the things that this person did on that person. When my uncle asked me, I just made a mess of it. Uncle stroked his beard, laughed, and said, "Haha! I still have a good memory." Listened to the uncle this sentence, I was ashamed, and remorse, than beaten and scolded more difficult, from then on, I read what is no longer sloppy.
That day when I was leaving, my uncle sent me two books, one is "Table", one is "Little John". My uncle has been dead for many years, and I still have these two books.
Once, at my uncle's house, the group gathered around a table for dinner. I looked at my father's nose, and then at my uncle's nose, and said to him, "Uncle, you and my father resemble each other everywhere, but there is one thing you don't resemble."
"What's the one thing that's not like it?" Uncle turned his head and asked me with a smile. He chewed something and the beard on his lips moved with it.
"Dad's nose is tall and straight, and yours, flat and flat." I looked at them for half a second before I said.
"You don't know," Uncle said with a smile as he touched his own nose, "when I was a boy, my nose was tall and straight like your father's."
"And how--"
"But when it came to it, it hit the wall a couple of times and flattened the nose."
"Bumped into walls?" I said, "How did you hit the wall? Did you walk carelessly?"
"Do you think it's not easy to bump into walls when there are black holes all around?"
"Oh!" I realized, "the walls are certainly much harder than the nose, no wonder you flattened your nose."
Everyone in the room burst out laughing.
One day at dusk, the wind was howling and the sky was very dark. The people on the street were all in a hurry to go home. The first thing I did was to go to my uncle's house. Not far from the door of my uncle's house, I saw a pull yellow car sitting on the ground moaning, the car thrown to the side.
We walked over and saw him holding his feet in both hands, with no shoes on his feet, and a streak of blood dripping on the ground. He heard footsteps and looked up, unbearable pain on his weathered face.
"What's wrong?" Dad asked him.
"Sir," a low voice came from his ashen, twitching lips, "wasn't paying attention, stepped on broken glass, and the shard stuck into the bottom of my foot. It hurts so much I can't go home!"
Dad ran to his uncle's house, and in a short while, he took medicine and gauze out with his uncle. They put the pulling car on the car, a squatting, a half-kneeling, Dad took tweezers to the pulling car clip out of broken glass, uncle to bring boric acid water to him to wash clean, and they put medicine on him, and tied a good bandage.
The cart puller said gratefully: "My house is not far from here, this can support the return. I don't know how to thank you, kind sirs."
The uncle took out some money for him, told him to stay at home for a few days, and gave him the rest of the medicine and bandages.
It was dark, and the streetlights gave off a faint light. I stood in front of my uncle's house and watched them, and suddenly felt a deep chill. I touched the tip of my nose, which was as cold as ice, and my feet and hands were somewhat numb. I think, such a cold day, how can that pulling the car barefoot pulling the car running on the road?
When uncle and father came back, I asked them. I can't remember my uncle's answer now, except that his words were deep and not easy to understand. I looked up and asked him to explain it to me in detail. At this time I saw clearly, and remember clearly now, that his face no longer had that kindly pleasant expression, but became so serious. He did not answer me, but only pressed his withered hand on my head, and, after half a day's silence, at last heaved a deep sigh.
After my uncle's death, I met his housemaid, San.... San is a worker's wife, her husband lost his job, she was so worried that her eyes fogged up, see things unclear, vague as through the fog. She talked to me about my uncle's life. She said, "Mr. Zhou himself was so sick, but he still wrote articles in the middle of the night. Sometimes I heard him coughing one after another and felt sorry for him. He did not care about his own illness, but often advised me to rest more, do not ask me to do heavy work."
Indeed, uncle is such a person, he thinks less for himself and more for others.
Moonlight Song
More than 100 years ago, there was a musician in Germany called Beethoven, who composed many famous pieces of music. One of these famous piano pieces was called "Moonlight Piece" and legend has it that it was composed like this.
One fall, Beethoven traveled around the world to perform, and came to a small town on the Rhine. One night, he was walking along a quiet path when he heard the intermittent sound of a piano coming out of a cottage, playing the very tune he was playing.
Beethoven approached the hut, the piano suddenly stopped, and there were people in the house talking. A girl said: "This piece is so difficult to play! I've only heard others play it a few times, but I can't remember how to play it. It would be nice to hear how Beethoven played it himself." A man said, "Yes, but concert tickets are too expensive and we are too poor." The girl said, "Don't be sad, brother, I'm just saying."
When Beethoven heard this, he pushed open the door and gently walked in. In the hut, a candle was lit. In the faint candlelight, the man was making leather shoes. There was an old piano in front of the window, and in front of it sat a girl of sixteen or seventeen, with a clear face, but blind.
The cobbler saw a stranger come in, stood up and asked: "Sir, who are you looking for? You've come to the wrong door, haven't you?" Beethoven said: "No, I came to play a song for the girl."
The girl quickly stood up and gave up her seat. Beethoven sat down in front of the piano and played the piece that the blind girl had just played. The blind girl was mesmerized, and when the piece was finished, she said excitedly, "How purely familiar it is! How deep is the feeling! You, you are Mr. Beethoven, right?"
Beethoven did not answer, he asked the blind girl: "Do you like it? He asked the blind girl, "Would you like to hear it?
A gust of wind blew out the candle. The moonlight shone through the window, and everything in the hut seemed to be covered with a silver veil, which made it seem extraordinarily tranquil. Beethoven looked at the siblings standing beside him, and by the light of the moon, pressed the keys.
The cobbler listened quietly. It seemed to him that he was facing the sea, and the moon was rising from where the water and the sky met. The shimmering sea was suddenly sprinkled with silver light. The moon rose higher and higher, passing through wisps and wisps of gauzy clouds. Suddenly, a gale blew over the sea and huge waves rolled in. By the moonlight shining snowy waves, one after another towards the shore surging ...... cobbler look at his sister, the moonlight is shining on her quiet face, shining her wide open eyes. It was as if she, too, saw, saw a sight she had never seen before, the rough sea illuminated by the moonlight.
The siblings were mesmerized by the beautiful sound of the piano. When they awoke, Beethoven had long since left the cottage. He flew back to the inn and spent the night recording the piece he had just played, the Moonlight Piece.
The original classroom text B (Bei Shi Da version of the 4th grade):
More than two hundred years ago, there was a German musician named Beethoven, who composed many famous pieces of music.
One fall, Beethoven traveled out of town to perform and came to a small town on the Rhine River. One night, he was walking along a quiet road when he heard the intermittent sound of a piano coming out of a low house on the side of the road, playing the very same piece he was playing.
Beethoven stopped to listen, and the piano suddenly stopped, and someone in the house was talking. A girl said, "This piece is so hard to play! I've only heard others play it a few times, and I can't always remember how to play it. If only I could hear how Beethoven himself played it, how wonderful it would be!" A man said, "Yes, but concert tickets are too expensive. I'll buy you a ticket when I make more shoes and earn more money." The girl said, "Brother, don't be sad, I'm just saying. I will play the song well."
Hearing this, Beethoven pushed open the door and gently walked in. A candle was lit in the room. In the faint candlelight a young man was making leather shoes. There was an old piano in front of the window, and in front of it sat a blind girl of sixteen or seventeen full of beauty.
The cobbler saw a stranger come in, stood up and asked, "Who are you looking for, sir? Is there anything you need help with?" Beethoven said, "No, I have come to play a tune for the girl."
The girl quickly stood up and gave up her seat. Beethoven sat down in front of the piano and played the piece the blind girl had just played. The blind girl was mesmerized, and when the song was over, he said excitedly, "How purely familiar it is! How deep the feelings that! You, you are not Mr. Beethoven, right?"
Beethoven did not answer, he was y touched by the poor brother and sister's love of life and music, the feelings in his chest like the waves of the sea. He asked the blind girl: "Do you like it? I will play another song for you."
A gust of wind blew out the candle. The moonlight shone into the window, and everything in the house seemed to be draped in a silver veil, making it seem extraordinarily tranquil. Beethoven's heart was filled with warmth and blessings. Then the moonlight, press the keys to the piano.
The cobbler listened quietly, as if he was facing the sea, the moon is rising from the water and the sky; the sparkling sea, suddenly sprinkled with silver light. The moon rose higher and higher, passing through wisps and wisps of gossamer clouds. Suddenly, a gale blew over the sea, and huge waves rolled up. The moon traveled through the dark clouds, and the waves, which were snowy with moonlight, came one after another toward the shore ...... The cobbler looked at his sister, and the moon was shining on her serene face, and on her wide-open eyes. It was as if she, too, saw, saw a sight she had never seen before -- the rough sea ......
The wind stopped, the waves rested, and the moonlight made the sea incomparably peaceful and beautiful.
The sound of the piano stopped, and the siblings were still intoxicated by the wonderful sound of the piano. When they came to their senses, Beethoven had already left the house, he flew back to the inn, spent the night work, just played the tune recorded. Legend has it that this is how the Moonlight Piece was composed.
The Founding Ceremony
On October 1, 1949, the Central People's Government of the People's Republic of China (PRC) was established, and a ceremony was held in the capital city of Beijing. Participating in the Ceremony were the Chairman, Vice-Chairmen and members of the Central People's Government of the People's Republic of China, all the delegates of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference, workers, peasants, teachers and students of schools, staff of institutions and city defense forces, totaling 300,000 people. There were also foreign guests on the observation platform.
The venue was Tiananmen Square. The square is d-shaped. D-shaped a horizontal north is a river, the river side by side with five white stone bridges; and then north of the city wall, the center of the wall towers Tiananmen Square. D-shaped vertical to the south of the vertical does not give the China Gate. South of the intersection of the three horizontal and one vertical, the field stood up an electric flagpole.
The podium is located on the Tiananmen Square Citadel. Under the eaves of the citadel, eight large red palace lanterns hang on either side. Against the stone railings on the left and right sides of the citadel, eight red flags fluttered in the wind.
The square in the shape of a dotted line gathered the masses from all directions. From six o'clock in the morning, a procession of the masses entered. Some of the people were carrying red flags and some were carrying red lamps. After entering the venue, they arranged themselves according to the prescribed places. Among the procession of workers were railroad workers from as far away as Changxindian, Fengtai, and Tongxian, who arrived early in the morning at the Beijing station and went straight to the meeting place as soon as they got off the train. The peasants from the suburbs woke up in the dark at five o'clock and walked forty or fifty miles to get here. By midday, Tiananmen Square had become a sea of people, with red flags fluttering like waves on the sea.
At 3:00 p.m. sharp, a mountain of applause erupted from the venue, and Mao Zedong, chairman of the Central People's Government of the People's Republic of China*** and the State Council of the People's Republic of China, appeared on the rostrum to meet the crowd. The gazes of 300,000 people turned to the podium in unison.
Lin Boqu, secretary-general of the Central People's Government, declared the ceremony open. The chairman, vice-chairman and members of the Central People's Government took their places. The orchestra played the national anthem of the Chinese People's **** and State - the March of the Volunteer Army. It was the sound of this battle that had inspired the Chinese people to fight for the birth of a new China. Then, Chairman Mao Zedong announced, "The Central People's Government of the People's Republic of China*** and the State of China is established today!"
This solemn declaration, this majestic voice, so that the whole thirty people cheered together. This solemn announcement, this majestic voice, through the radio broadcast, spread to the Great Wall inside and outside, spread to the north and south of the Yangtze River, so that the hearts of all the people of China jumped up together.
Next, raise the national flag. Chairman Mao personally pressed the electric button connected to the electric flagpole, the new China's national flag - the five-star red flag rose slowly, 300,000 people took off their hats and stood at attention, raised their heads and admired the bright red flag. The five-star red flag has been raised, indicating that the Chinese people have stood up since then.
When the flag was raised, a salute was fired. Every sound is 54 cannons fired, a ****28 sound. At first, the whole place was silent, only heard the sound of the cannons, only heard the sound of the national flag and many flags fluttering, to later, after each sound of the cannons, the whole place resounded with a burst of thunderous applause.
Then Chairman Mao read the proclamation of the Central People's Government amidst burst after burst of applause from the crowd. In powerful tones, he sent out the voice of the new China to the world. When he read "Mao Zedong has been elected chairman of the Central People's Government," the people in the square's love for their leader melted into a loud cheer. A round of applause erupted from the observation platform at the same time.
After Chairman Mao finished reading the announcement, the parade began. The People's Liberation Army Commander-in-Chief Zhu De was the commander of the parade, General Nie Rongzhen was the commander-in-chief of the parade, Commander-in-Chief Zhu and General Nie rode in the same car, first reviewing the troops, then Commander-in-Chief Zhu returned to the podium to read the orders of the People's Liberation Army Headquarters. The troops on parade were then led by General Nie, and slowly entered the field from east to west to the sound of the "March of the Chinese People's Liberation Army".
Beginning the parade were two platoons of the navy, with snow-white caps and blue uniforms the color of the ocean. Then came a division of infantry, marching in company formation, in unison. Then came a division of artillery, field guns, mountain guns, howitzers, rockets, all kinds of guns, all marching in a single horizontal line. Then came a division of chariots, all kinds of armored cars and tanks in rows of two or three, marching in neat rows; the soldiers stood on their chariots with their chests out, like giants of steel. Next came a division of cavalry, the "Red Horse Company" with red horses of one color, the "White Horse Company" with white horses of one color, five horses marching in parallel, their legs moving in perfect unison. All these troops passed in front of the podium at equal distances and at the same speed. As the chariot troops passed by, the airplanes of the People's Air Force also flew across the sky in herringbone formation. Chairman Mao was the first to wave into the air. When the crowd saw this, they threw hats on their heads, newspapers and other things in their hands into the sky, cheering to drown out the rumbling of the planes.
The two-and-a-half-hour parade was a crescendo of cheers and applause in the square. The crowd almost shouted their voices mute, the palms of their hands are clapping numb, but still do not feel able to express the joy and flow of their hearts.
The parade was over, and it was already evening. The lanterns and torches on Tiananmen Square were all lit up, and 10,000 fireworks were shot into the sky one after another. The sky was full of colorful sparks, and the ground was red with thousands of lights. The mass procession started at this time. The procession set off in two directions, east and west, holding lamps and torches and chanting "Long live the Chinese People's ****ing Party!" "Long live the People's Republic of China!" "Long live the Central People's Government!" They went in order, walking across the White Stone Bridge facing Tiananmen Square, raising their lanterns and torches, and shouting "Long live Chairman Mao!" "Long live Chairman Mao!" Chairman Mao, in front of the podium on the Citadel, leaned forward, waving his hand to the crowd and shouting "Long live the people!" "Long live the comrades!"
9:30 p.m., the parade only completely out of the venue. The two "red streams" split to the east and west of the city streets, the light filled the entire city of Beijing.