When I was a child, nostalgia was a small postage stamp, with me here and my mother there. When I grew up, nostalgia was a narrow boat ticket, with me here and my bride there. Later, nostalgia was a short tomb, with me outside and my mother inside.
Born on the traditional Chinese Chongyang Festival, his father was a Kuomintang government official. During the war, the family moved to Chongqing.
In 1947, the poet was admitted to both Peking University and Jinling University, choosing the latter because he did not want to leave his mother, and in 1949 he transferred to Xiamen University.
In 1950, the poet traveled to Taiwan with his family, and in 1951, the poet received guidance from Liang Shiqiu.
In 1952, the poet graduated from NTU and published his first collection of poems, Lamentations of a Boat, which was not well received. The following year, he entered the army as a compilation officer.
In 1956, the poet retired from the army and began to teach in some schools, while editing literary magazines such as Blue Star; in September of the same year, the poet married his cousin Fan Wei-Cun. 1958 and 1966, the poet traveled to the United States twice.
In 1974, the poet went to Hong Kong to teach, and in 1981, he met with poets such as Huang Yimian and Xin Di, and exchanged ideas with each other. 1992, he finally hoped for the day he had longed for, and he returned to his hometown with his wife.
The poet's works, in addition to those mentioned above, include Blue Feathers, White Jade Bitter Gourd, The Water Goddess of Mercy, and the collection of essays Easy Traveling.
2. Good Words and Sentences on HomesicknessYou come from your hometown, you should know about your hometown.
In the coming days, in front of the window, the cold plums will be in flower. The children don't know each other, and they laugh and ask where the guests come from. (He Zhizhang: "Evening Book of Returning to the Countryside") 3. The sound and letters outside the ridge are broken, and the winter is followed by the spring.
I'm not afraid to ask the people who are near my hometown. (Song Zhiwen: "Crossing the Han River") 4. The road is beyond the green mountains, the boat before the green water.
The tide is flat and the wind is blowing. The sea sun is born in the night, the river spring people old year.
Where can I find the letter of homecoming, the geese return to the edge of Luoyang. (Wang Wan: "Under the Mountain of the Second Beigu") 5. People spring only seven days, already two years away from home.
After the return of the geese, the thought of hair in front of the flowers.
Raise your head to look at the moon, and lower your head to think of your hometown.
This night, I heard the broken willow in the song, who can not afford the love of the old garden. (Li Bai: "Hearing the flute in the city of Luocheng on a spring night") 8. The guest house is already ten frost, and the return heart remembers Xianyang day and night.
For no reason at all, I crossed the Sanggan water, and I was looking forward to seeing my hometown. (Liu Soap: "Journey to Shuo Fang") 9. The drums of the garrison broke the line of people, and the sound of geese on the edge of the fall.
The dew is white tonight, the moon is bright in the hometown. The moon is bright in my hometown. I'm scattered, and I have no home to ask if I'm going to live or die.
The letter was never sent, not to mention the fact that the army had not yet rested. （
This is the first time I've ever seen a book in my life that I've written.)
3. Nostalgia beautiful sentence1 years of change, a few years of wandering in a foreign land, once the remorse, once the hope, time and again alternately occupied the floating foreign land drifter's heart, time and again finally put down the homecoming of the thought of flotsam.
Every time the heart is tired, the tender nostalgia will surge up in a flash, as if the tide washed the lonely sea of the heart, burying the troubles, gently licking the scarred heart, soothing the tired heart. This time the nostalgia seems to be a sheltered harbor, good is cozy.
A white railroad track stretches the traces of winter. The smoke from the lavender cooking pots, clear and messy, is a beautiful trail of migratory birds.
A string of deep and shallow footprints floating in the boundless snow field, engraved memories gradually blurred.
With a grateful heart to harvest more sense, more beautiful, more happy happy. Standing in the years, their own eyes look out, the days of spring flowers are also close to ...... so their own sweet smile.3 Nostalgia is the mother rolled down in the cheeks of the Si children's tear drops, night and day to moisten my homesickness of the sadness.
Many years ago the day I sat on the train to the north, my mother was in tears, waving her arms and running with the train, the scene of the scene from this engraved in my heart, become my heart drenched with wounds, wounds that flow out of the forever bloody nostalgia.4 Nostalgia is also the accent, sometimes it is buried to the ground of our daily lives, but it is constantly fermenting, and so we will be in the smooth spoken Mandarin We will be able to speak smooth Mandarin when a dialect pops up unintentionally, so we will be so sensitive to the familiar voice that suddenly rings out in a thousand accents, so we will easily be able to do a skillful switch between two different languages.
5 Nostalgia is always related to distance, always related to going to the country and leaving home. Nostalgia is a line through time and space, this end is the traveler, that end is the hometown.
The farther the traveler goes, the tighter the nostalgia collects. When the traveler's hair is white, tired, the heart also struck the deepest and deepest marks.
6 Nostalgia is a pair of mother's calloused hands, once it is this pair of hands holding me on the road to school, this pair of hands with labor for me to study for tuition fees, this pair of hands when I was sick for me to bring water to send medication, this pair of hands in my night sleeplessness caressing my cheeks and hair, until I sleep peacefully, miss my mother can not help but think of my mother's pair of rough hands that pulled me to grow up, my mother's hands. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm going to be able to do it.
4. good words and sentences about nostalgiaGood words: spring flowers rosy and verdant green to serve the public sweet sweet sweet taste aftertaste endless drops of sweat green fat red thin fruit fruit fertile fruit attractive fruit full fruit sweet melon fruit fat juice sweet fruit orchard fruitful garden fruitful fruitful fruitful fruitful fruitful fruitful fruitful fruitful branches Lotus root breaks threads Lihong smeared with green Good sentences: 1, ah! What a noble thought! What a great warrior! For the love of thousands and thousands of people, they have devoted themselves to everything, with blood and life to defend the children of the motherland, they are not our most honorable relatives! Moonlight like running water, quietly dipped in this leaf and flowers, thin green mist floating up in the lotus pond, leaves and flowers as if washed in buttermilk, and like a dream with a light veil.
My table bucket put a worn out flowery schoolbag, although worn out, but it is one of my boat, a piece of treasure. The schoolbag is a boat, carrying me to swim in the sea of learning, rushing rapids, over the dangerous shoals, drift far away, to reach the other side of the victory; the schoolbag is a treasure, it is melted with the mother's love and love, to give me the strength to go forward.
It finally took shape: a broadband to a not too small cloth pocket made, the look is really like a boat, which is also embroidered with the words "study hard, every day up". An ordinary brush "height" of about 6 inches, this structure is designed to fit the regular script, running script, cursive and other different styles of writing needs.
The pen is made of Coca-Cola cans, the surface of the hundreds of small conch shells glued together to form a peculiar figure. The library has a collection of over 90,000 books, ranging from student workbooks to Shakespeare's plays, and from small series of light science books to Einstein's magnum opus.
How many nights the little lamp shines brightly, accompanying me to review my homework, and it knows my worries and joys best .
The surrounding mountains are like a colorful canvas. The waves of the mountain peaks and waves, layers and layers.
The mountains are black and pale, with no edge, and the cliffs are cut like an axe and the sky is the top of the earth. The undulating loess hills are like the waves of a great flood.
The Dragon Hill, like a tomb towering in the night. The mountains on both sides of the gorge rise and fall straight up and down, so high that it makes people dizzy.
The deep valley is appallingly quiet and gloomy. The ravines were filled with snow, as high as the backs of the mountains, and became a great square of flat, snow-covered ground.
The morning sun is shining, and the mountain is like a shy girl, hidden, the sunset, the remaining light across the light. Vocabulary: 立夏 入夏 夏至 初夏 仲夏 盛夏 夏日 夏天 夏天 夏天暑装 夏夜 酷热 炎热 hot 燒热 闷热 初夏时节 已近立夏 时值初夏 初夏之际 春去夏来 春末夏初 时当下令 時值盛夏正值盛夏 夏天 夏天过去 正值炎夏 正值盛暑 盛夏时节 盛夏之季 盛夏日 盛夏日 盛夏季节 酷暑季节 酷暑盛夏 盛暑炎暑 muggy summer muggy summer 溽暑盛夏 炎炎盛夏 五黄六月 時值 June is the season of three volts Heat in three volts Summer in full bloom Three volts summer days Three volts in full bloom Summer heat The great summer heat is gone The end of the volts is over It is already the end of the summer The rainy season The rainy season The summer harvest season Spring planting Summer harvest Summer planting Summer harvesting Summer harvesting Busy summer sun and cool summer June heat Summer heat Summer heat Summer heat Summer heat The dreadful sun Sun is poisonous Sun is poisonous and hot Hot sun in the middle of the day The red sun is scorching The summer heat Summer heat The summer mood is thick The summer hills are like blue The summer trees are verdant Summer water is soupy The summer month cicadas chirp Phrase July, the sky of translucent blue. Hanging fireball-like sun, clouds seem to be burned by the sun, also disappeared without a trace.
The spring is gone with the falling flowers, and the summer is covered with green leaves and jumping in the warm wind. Early summer sunshine from the dense layers of branches and leaves down, the ground printed with the size of the copper coin sparkling spot.
The wind blew with a slight warmth, sending the cuckoo's call at times as it told us, "Spring has returned." The grass, reeds and red, white and purple wildflowers are steamed by a fiery sun high in the sky, and the air is filled with a sweet intoxication.
In early summer, wildflowers of all colors bloom, red, purple, pink, yellow, like brilliant spots embroidered on a large green carpet; swarms of bees are busy in the flowers, sucking the stamens, diligently flying around. In the summer, it is so hot that even the dragonflies only dare to fly against the shade of the trees, as if they are afraid that the sun will hurt their wings.
There is not a cloud in the air, there is not a little wind, overhead a round of hot sun, all the trees are listless, lazy standing there. In the height of summer in July, there was not a cloud in the tile blue sky, the hot sun scorched the earth, the water in the river was scalding hot, and the soil in the ground was smoking.
The sun was blazing, and on both sides of the road, the ripe grains were bending over in the heat, heads down. Grasshoppers, as numerous as blades of grass, chirped faintly and noisily in the wheat and rye fields again, in the wheat and rye fields, and in the reeds along the banks.
The sun is like a big, big ball of fire, the light is scorching, the highway is baked by the hot sun, the foot step down a string of white smoke. The weather is hot and muggy, and there is no wind, so the air seems to be frozen.
The whole city is like a burnt-out brick kiln, making people breathless. The dogs lay on the ground and spat out their bright red tongues, and the nostrils of the mules and horses were flared wide.
The hot umbrella of fire was high in the air, and the fish in the river did not dare to show the water, and the birds did not dare to fly out of the mountains and forests, and the dogs in the village just stretched out their tongues and panted endlessly. The day, the sky is so hot that it's crazy.
As soon as the sun came out, the ground has been on fire, some like clouds, like fog, like fog, gray gas, low floating in the air, so that people feel suffocated. It was a long drought in the summer, the hot sun baked the old loach in the field are turning white, the village side of the creek, the creek water a few inches lower, those exposed to the water surface of the stone, steeply larger.
Birds do not know where to hide to go; grass and trees are downcast, as if dying, etc.; only that the robin, can not stop in the branches of the broken high call; really broken gongs and drums in the hot sun shouting to support! The willow tree in the street looked like it was sick, its leaves hung with dust and rolled on its branches, and its branches did not move. The road is glowing with white light, the vendors are not afraid to shout, and the Plexiglas signboards in front of the stores seem to melt in the sun.
Good words: stars, sky stars, cold stars, lone stars, morning stars, stars.
5. Good Words About HomesicknessDescription of Morning, Afternoon, Twilight, and Night On a summer night, when there are many mosquitoes, I sit under the acacia tree with a bushel fan and look at the little bit of blue sky ...... from the cracks of the dense leaves (Lu Xun) The second half of the night in the fall. The moon went down, the sun had not yet come out, and there was only an ebony blue sky left; everything was asleep except the things that traveled by night.
(Lu Xun) The dusk of late autumn always comes quickly, before the water evaporated by the sunlight on the mountains dissipates. The sun sets into the western mountains. So the wind in the valley, with a heavy coolness, drove the white mist, wandering down the mountain; and the shadow of the mountain peaks, more quickly pressed down on the village, the shadow is getting thicker and thicker, and gradually mixed with the night, but soon, and then the moon candles into a silvery gray.
(Feng Deying) The bright moonlight adorns the night sky in spring, as well as the earth. The night sky is like a boundless transparent sea, quiet, vast, and mysterious.
The dense stars, like small sparks rippling in the sea water, twinkled and pulsed with tiny points of light. The fields, villages, and trees, in their ethereal sleep, were draped in a silver veil.
The mountains, hidden, like clouds, and like islands in the sea, as if to summon the night sailing ships, from time to time flashed a little two points of reddish fire. (Wu Qiang) The road next to the waves like rolling high and low yellow soil.
The sun is buried in the yellow soil, glowing flesh red. However, the sun is still burned with great vigor, burning their flesh to a purple-black color, and it seems to smell a burnt smell.
(Zhang Tianyi) The bitter, hot air seemed to have stagnated; the hot face waited sorrowfully for the wind, but the wind did not come. The sun shone hotly in the dark blue sky; on the bank opposite to us was a field of yellow-orange oats, with absinth growing in some places, and not even a single ear of wheat shaken.
(Turgenev) When the sun first showed its face, I was walking along the stream toward the village, and the faint, clear mist, the moist, wet smell of the earth, could not stop hitting my face and penetrating my nose.
A piece of transparent gray clouds, light cover the moonlight, the field above, as if the cage up a light smoke, strands off, as falling into a dream. After the evening clouds drifted by, the smoke on the field dissipated, and the water-like clear light, rinsing the soft autumn night.
(Liu Shude) The night of this day, not even a cloud, the sky is blue and transparent. The moon, like a new bride, had just risen from the eastern sky, and then shyly burrowed into the leaves of the trees to hide.
Those thick aspen leaves, like a running water, day and night rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, in a place where people can not see, calm and loud flow. (Liu Zhen) The clouds moved slowly, and the full moon, which had been engulfed for a long time, jumped out all of a sudden, like a golden plate just out of the refining furnace, brilliant and golden, illuminating the whole earth brightly, and the frogs on the lotus leaves, the grasshoppers in the grass, and the birds on the branches of the trees were awakened by the brightness that suddenly descended on the earth, and cheered, jumped, and chirped loudly.
(Wang Zifu) In August in the south, the sun is blazing. At midday, the sun curls up the leaves of the trees.
The robins are raving with their long voices, adding a layer of annoyance to the hot weather.
Gradually, lifting the dazzling clouds, the sun appeared like a ball of fire, pouring its fiery red rays on the trees, on the plains, on the sea, and on the whole earth. (Maupassant) At night there is no moon, and the stars are extremely dense.
After eleven o'clock, everyone went to bed, and it was so silent that even an embroidery needle could be heard falling to the ground. Black hole in the sky dotted with stars, between which there is a pile of I do not know what to call the name, hand pulling hand made a large circle, looks like a necklace embedded in a pearl gemstone as if.
I really can not sleep at the moment, I dress out of bed and came to the window to stare at the sky.
The sea seems to have fallen asleep, and I heard the gentle waves beat on the beach whispering.
(West) Cervantes The hot sun hangs high in the sky over the world. The red light shot up like a rocket to the ground, which was on fire, reflecting the flames that were boiling like oil.
Steaming, suffocating, intense, and strangely stifling, it was almost as if the cells and fibers of the people's bodies would explode from trembling.
Every breath, the fragrance of the lungs, and the lungs also gladly absorb the fragrance. Far away, over the river, as far as the horizon, everything was brilliant; now and then a breeze swept by, wrinkling the plains and intensifying the light; a glorious mist covered the whole field.
The birds were silent, and in the heat of the noonday the birds never sing; but the hoarse chirping of the weavers was all over the field. It is a great pleasure to sit quietly in the shade of this ardent song of life; it lulls one to sleep, and, at the same time, invites deep dreams.
(Turgenev) The afternoon sun was so strong that even the water in the rice paddies steamed and made a tiny sound in the dark. The leaves of the seedlings were so sunburned that they rolled up and lost their tender green luster, and there was no wind at all, so when people walked on the ridge with seedlings on both sides, they were so hot and sweaty that it was not easy for them to breathe through the air, so no one wanted to come out.
(Ai Wu) The clear air makes the earth vast, expanding it indefinitely. Everything is going far away, and it is calling people to go to the blue edge of the earth.
I have seen the sun rise from this place.
6. Good Words About Homesickness No PoetryOutside the window is a steady drizzle; tonight the wind is beating on my window pane again, and my homesickness swells up like a soaked seed for no reason at all. The dream that has been wandering for so many days is blurring up the curved path in the village.
Who was it that played the song of homesickness with the flute on the moonlit night, the sad tune inadvertently filling the wilderness of my heart; who was it that read the ancient poem of homesickness night after night, the sad oblique tones dripping with the sprawling and quiet nostalgia. I once thought that I was used to working from eight to five in this strange city, and in the days of disillusionment like running water, the hills and mountains of my hometown had drifted away. Suddenly looked back, only to find that dust in the heart of the fragrance, only to understand that they are a kite flying, no matter where they are located, where the rope of the heart will always be bolted to the sycamore tree in front of the hometown.
A clearing rain dampened all my memories, nostalgia is like a garden full of leeks; long cut; cut and long. Everything in my hometown flashes in my memory. In my lonely soul thoughts like fish swimming. Once wallowed in life's disappointment, but the mountains and the water, the simple home, the hometown of the constant posture, in the poem evolved into a wordless song, a poem without rhyme, and my soul has long since wandered out, through the thousands of mountains and water, back to the hometown, and the simple folks together to taste the pure rice wine.
When the air can no longer see the flock of geese flying south, when the leaves on the sycamore tree yellow and green, my unchanging nostalgia but also so leisurely and swinging play, such as the hometown of the distant flute, strands of endless; as Li Houzhu's "hate is just like the grass, more line farther still alive".
7. Homesickness good sentence good paragraph宿建德江 (Tang) Meng Haoran 移舟泊烟渚, daybreak guest sadness new. The first thing you need to do is to get a good look at your favorite place. The moon (Tang) Xue Tao 魄依钩样小，扇逐汉機团。 The shadow will be round, how many places on earth can I see? The Moon (Tang) Zhang Jiuling The bright moon rises on the sea, and the sky is at the end of the world. The moon is the only thing that can make you feel good about yourself and your family. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said. I can't bear to give it to you, but I'm still in bed and dreaming of a better time. Remembering my younger brother in the moonlit night (Tang) Du Fu The garrison drums break the line of people, and the sound of geese is heard at the edge of autumn. The dew is white tonight and the moon is bright in my hometown. All my brothers are scattered, and I have no home to ask about my life and death. I have no family to ask about my life and death. I have sent a long letter but it has not yet reached me. Mountain Dwelling Autumn All Night (Tang) Wang Wei The weather comes late in the autumn after fresh rain on the empty mountains. The moon shines among the pines, and the clear spring flows over the stones. The bamboo clamor returns to the raccoon girl, and the lotus moves under the fishing boat. The first thing I want to do is to make sure that I have a good time with my friends and family.
Christmas flowers as red as blood in the city thousands of miles away, the air becomes cold, the early morning phone call from mom, a few words of advice voice, old and warm, warming the frozen memory. The city is bustling and empty, swollen with vapid joy, and I, with my eyes full of desolation, look for strange familiarity. When your hand reaches out, the pain and weakness I've been holding back, the layers open up. You said, it's time to go home. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal of money.
The sound of the countryside curls up and pulls down the tears in my eyes. There is no one who is willing to be like a wandering soul floating in a foreign land, let us think of home, increasingly barren and decaying, such as the old man's sighs like the wind and candles, sound snot and tears. We also have the spirit of the wind, is also arrogant and wild, unbeatable. But the bottom of the heart but there is always an inherent wound, a touch of pain. The sad thing is, we grew up in the same blue sky in the same country, the soil, but there are advantages and disadvantages. There is a section of the heart had a simple and clear, through a light blue.