Chinese is a glass of wine in Li Taibai; Chinese is Cao Xueqin's dream and tears; Chinese is Lu Xun's cry of hesitation: Chinese is Guo Moruo's phoenix nirvana; Language is the winter in the north of Wan Li where snow and ice float in Wan Li; Language is Zhu Ziqing's gentle breeze and drizzle; China is the clearness and exquisiteness of Jinan in winter written by Lao She.

Chinese is the messenger of truth, goodness and beauty; The sword of Damocles, whose language is false, ugly and ugly, is our forever friend.

The sky in September was so pale that I was alone in the wilderness, listening attentively. A voice came from thousands of years ago, "It's a pleasure to have friends from afar ..." If it sounds like Hong Zhong, the sky in September is so legendary, and Mr. Hamel's grandiloquence of "Long live France" crossed the sky.

People in China are always so sentimental. It comes from the ancient primitive society. It passed me gently. At this moment, the poem "Be loyal to your art, you don't know your age, let fame and fortune be like clouds" rings around me. From the poet's pen, I deeply realized that plain is true.

China people make me have the idea that "however, when China keeps our friendship, heaven will still be our neighbor", which makes me open and honest.

Only an old Chinese friend can let me appreciate the magnificent weather of "thousands of miles of frozen snow drifting in Wan Li". Cao Xueqin's Story of the Stone showed me a few bitter tears, and the language in Su Shi's works was so magnificent.

The most shy, the most free and easy, the most tender, the most fierce and bold, the most magnificent desert sand as snow. ...

China people, it always passed me so gently, but left so many immortal feats and gentle and beautiful legends.

China, it passed gently, but let me. ...

Life lies not in what you accomplish, but in what you do. Therefore, whenever you see a dense forest, you just want to be a big tree in the forest, a crystal drop in the waves, and a peaceful flower in the white clouds. Although it is a tree, it can resist wind and rain; Although it is a drop, it can moisten the soil; Although it is a flower, it can bear the blue sky. ...

Chinese, in fact, has never been experienced.

Two people from China walked by me.

Gently, you, language, passed by me, leaving a string of wonderful music that often lingers in my ears, encouraging me, inspiring me and edifying me.

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Chinese is like a cool and sweet spring. Drinking spring water will make my mind delicate.

Chinese is like an intoxicating sea. Listening to the sea will broaden my mind.

Chinese is like white snow. Appreciating snow will make my heart noble and pure.

Thank you, China! You let me enjoy the beauty in the distance.

Reading "Spring", I seem to be immersed in the embrace of colorful spring, with flowers as companions and bees and butterflies playing happily; After reading Suzhou gardens, I seem to be in the wonderful landscape, enjoying pavilions, pavilions, bridges and flowing water. Reading "Guilin Landscape" feels like floating on the horizontal Lijiang River by boat, wandering among the majestic peaks, watching the sails and listening to the birds singing, which is refreshing.

Thank you, China! You made me realize the true meaning of happiness.

After reading the biography of Mr. Wu Liu, I realized that Tao Yuanming's "don't care about poverty, don't care about wealth" is extraordinary; After reading Jihai Miscellaneous Poems, I realized Gong Zizhen's persistence of "falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud to protect flowers". In Crossing Ding Yang, I felt Wen Tianxiang's patriotic feelings that "no one has died in life since ancient times, so we should open our hearts and shine on our history".

Thank you, China! You gave me the confidence of "breaking the wind and waves, and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea", the optimism that "every autumn has been bleak and lonely since ancient times, and I said that autumn is better than spring", and the ambition of "reaching the top, the other mountains all appear dwarfs under the sky.". .

When the last cloud was dotted in the sky, when the last afterglow disappeared in the horizon, and when the last star lit up the dark night sky, I found that you, China people, walked by me gently, sowed the seeds of hope, took root in my heart and blossomed the most beautiful flowers in the world.

Three people from China walked by me.

Chinese is everyone's spiritual paradise. It's like a gust of wind, always around you.

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( 1)

One day, my classmates and I went for a spring outing. When I looked up at the sky, I never found that it was so blue. Look at your feet again, I don't know when the vibrant grass has poked its head out, and there is thick green everywhere, dotted with the green eyes of nature. Inadvertently, I found a towering green hill in the distance, surrounded by green trees. Faced with this situation, I can't help but blurt out: "We are looking at the green trees around your village and the pale blue of the surrounding mountains."

When I was enjoying the green mountains and green waters, China people passed me.

(2)

It's noisy to have self-study classes at night. Looking at the red-faced and thick-necked monitor, I sighed. I wish they would continue to make trouble and the storm would come more violently! Thinking about it made me feel really bored, so I watched it again. At this time, my deskmate gave me a push and asked, "How can you continue reading?" I said, "My heart is far from self-centered."

When I was "far away from my heart", Chinese passed by me quietly.

(3)

Finally, it is the weekend again. In the morning, I can't wait to get up. After washing, I can't wait to walk into the playground of literary masterpieces. Reading A Dream of Red Mansions, I shed tears for Daiyu, remembering ('People have joys and sorrows, and the moon has ups and downs': reading La Traviata, I feel sorry for the love between Margaret and Armand, remembering' May people live a long life, beautiful as a thousand miles': reading Dou E's grievances, feeling sorry for Dou E's grievances, remembering'. read ...

China people turn a blind eye to me when I read famous books.

Chinese is everywhere, and she walked by me inadvertently, which enriched me and made me no longer empty. She is really like a gust of wind, holding me and passing me whenever and wherever. I want to shout to the world, "China people, walk past me."

-P.S.

Four people from China walked by me.

If you are a swordsman, you should carry a long sword on your back and travel around the great rivers and mountains of the motherland. If you are a fisherman, you should take a fishing rod to appreciate the artistic conception of "one boat and one hat". I'm neither a swordsman nor a fisherman, but I can feel different feelings and unusual artistic conception from it.

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Countless romantic figures

Once upon a time, I was a child who knew nothing. It was she, the language, who took me through time and space and talked to Robinson described by Defoe. It's her, it's the language, which makes me feel at ease with Gorky who has gone through many vicissitudes; It was her, the language, that made me know so many famous people: Wen Tianxiang who died for his country, Li Shizhen who tasted all kinds of herbs ... Who else? The vicissitudes of history are like turning pages in front of me. It is she who reminds me of the shame of China and the revitalization after a hundred years. Countless romantic figures poured out in her mouth.

Can't see the peerless beauty.

The pyramids in Egypt, the Louvre in France, and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris are all her. The language has taken me everywhere, so that I am no longer a nerd who "turns a deaf ear to things outside the window and concentrates on reading sage books". At the Xizi Lake, I followed her to see the beautiful scenery of "the lotus leaves are infinitely blue the next day and the lotus flowers are infinitely red the next day"; In front of Yueyang Tower, I followed her to enjoy the spectacular scene of "taking the distant mountains, swallowing the Yangtze River, making soup, and boundless territory". In the Wang Teng Pavilion, I followed her to enjoy the beautiful scenery of "Sunset and Lonely Qi Fei, Autumn Water and the sky are the same color" ... The inexhaustible beauty is the language that led me to visit one by one.

Tao cannot speak the truth of the world.

Family, friendship and love are everywhere in her. The feeling of "thread in the hands of a loving mother, making clothes for her wayward son"; Friendship "However, while China holds our friendship, heaven is still our neighbor"; "I want to be a wing bird in heaven and grow together on the earth, two branches of a tree." It's her, the language that brings me to feel the joys and sorrows.

From now on, I no longer envy swordsmen and fishermen, because I know that as long as you are by my side, I know everything.

You passed me quietly, without taking away a cloud; You gently waved to me and bid farewell to the past. You cast a sword shadow in my heart, which lingers in my life for a long time. Thank you, Wen. I will join hands with you for life.

I love Song Ci.

Swing on the swing, too lazy to rub delicate hands. Beside her, the thin Germany hung with crystal dew, and the sweat on her chest permeated with the thin silk robe.

Seeing someone coming, socks and gold hairpin slipped away and left in shame. Looking back at the door, Wen Qingmei.

"Walking with shame, leaning against the door and looking back, but smelling childhood", only a dozen words, a shy and lovely girl curled up and jumped out! Perhaps it is the agreement of mentality, perhaps it is the eternal * * * sound in literary theory. I have just entered the cardamom age, and I was immediately infected by the rugged, tortuous and graceful long and short sentences of Song poetry, thus talking to me through the Millennium! From then on, the stirring lyrics "Ask what the world is like, and teach people to live and die together" came from Yuan Haowen's long tune "Fishing", and the episode "Four Machines" that set off Ying Gu and Zhou in "Shooting Carvings" came from the unknown word "Nine Machines".

"Who will push embroidery outside the curtain? Teaching people in vain, dreaming of breaking Yao and Taiwan music. However, the wind knocks on the bamboo. " When I first read Song Ci, I felt a harmonious sense of music and beautiful charm, such as light smoke and flowing water, spring breeze of flowers and moons, rippling shampoo, quiet and ethereal, which made people relaxed and refreshed. The exhibition is slightly sung, and the long and clear words float into your eyes like a piece of silk rain, and the passionate poets in the Song Dynasty sing and dance in Liu Mo's flower songs.

In the afterglow of grass smoke, who is leaning against the dangerous fence, hurting the memory and planning to get drunk?

Liufu Suidi. Who sang Xie Qiao back?

When the non-legacy window sells sun and moon curtains, who folds the sleeves of plum blossoms in the snow every year?

The moon is in the sky, and the Dongting Lake is in the Mid-Autumn Festival. Who is holding a leaf in the boat, taking a photo with the Minghe River and crying alone?

Ten miles of leisure depends on the butterfly dream, and a spring of bitterness pays the strings. Such as the true spirit revealed in Guan Luan's notes, such as curling has a clear standard, everything is done in summer, the beauty and sadness of "falling flowers are independent, swift flies in both directions", the ethereal beauty of "outside the sunset, the west Western jackdaw is ten thousand points, and the water flows around the lonely village", and the hazy meaning of "the geese cry silently in spring, and the clouds are shy", "it is time to be the same.

The fragrance wafts to the world; Osmanthus fragrans in first frost has a thousand-year charm. Even if the sun sets a few times and the glitz of the years is blown away by the wind and rain, Song Ci enjoys an unparalleled peak position in the history of medieval literature, but it has always been a beauty who washes lead and ink, and does not hide the beauty of the whole city. She is graceful. Whether it's the bold and broad-minded in Gone for Never, or the fresh and graceful in Xiao Feng's Canyue, it's all fragrant in the south and beautiful in the north, and dragon soul in Shu gives people a clear sky, which will let future generations take its essence.

How many people, after worrying about their own hearts and eyes, cut open their own names, knocked on the door lock and sneaked in with the words * * * *.

How many people wake up in the chaotic world of the camp, the more they cross the road, the more comfortable they are in this spiritual home.

The universe is magnificent, and the Millennium has passed in an instant. Looking back suddenly, the classical appearance seems to be gradually covered by the world of mortals, and the expression of literature has gradually evolved from simple to complex. However, brushing away the dust and sand of the years, I can always feel the magnificence of Song Ci, which runs through life and stands between heaven and earth, flourishing and magnificent. Weak water 3 thousand, take a ladle to drink alone, such as every spring.

Where there is well water, it is to sing willow waves. I think every poet in the Song Dynasty must be an outstanding musician. If a charming girl plays with flowers, she will be very charming. Delicate and light poems, like the clear flute sound in the ear, turn into melody. Sentences with different lengths and dense rhymes are permeated with a harmonious sense of law everywhere, which slowly strikes the strings in people's hearts, makes people's hearts chant and purify, makes people bathe in them, and feels infinite spring. It's a pleasant night, breezy Xu Lai, and it's a pleasant place to lie in Dongshan.

Therefore, I always like to read the long-mellow beauty across the water, and read her charm of "endless words and endless meanings" in the cold window of the moon setting and in the bright night. When Chenxi Yu Cuiwei and Xintong introduced her for the first time, I read her charm of "soft words and full of flavor, the wind blows over the clouds and the rain falls under the eaves".

Of course, walking between the lines with subtle fragrance always brings your own preferences and paranoia. I like Yi 'an, a poet in the Northern Song Dynasty. He is known as "the first choice of words, the most graceful". His language is light and affectionate, infatuated with mountains and persistent, and his charm is better than elegant, deep and graceful travel, beautiful and tortuous ... Among them, Liu Tuntian's well-known classic ci works are exposed, and I don't appreciate the slang in his slow words. As a poet in the Southern Song Dynasty, I like the white stone in Leng Yan, which is as fragrant as the white crane. Its unique talent really flies like a wild cloud, leaving no trace. The ethereal spirit of "Huainan bright moon is cold in Qian Shan, and nobody cares about it" washes away the worldly customs, and the dream of "Who teaches red-violet night, the two places try to figure out each other" is patient and unique. Dongpo Cai Gao Xuebo, a representative figure of the bold school, takes poetry as his word, is broad-minded and detached, and has great charm. Jia Xuan's ci is both rigid and flexible. There are melancholy and sadness of "the setting sun is on the roof, drifting in the south of the Yangtze River", freshness and brightness of "a bright moon, graceful figure in the gauze", and Jie Jiang, Wu Wenying, Zhang Xiaoxiang, Chen Jia, Shi Dazu, Zhou Zizhi ... In my opinion, every poet is a poet.

Three points in spring, two points in dust and one point in water. The opposite life is always like snow and mud, claws and mustard seeds, fleeting. I would like to repose my feelings in harmony, work hard in meandering water, pursue pearls and jade in the elegant flat sleeves of the ancients, pick herbs, learn this beautiful language art, and let the ancient essays bear life and cumin.

Well, man, that's all I can do for you. Give me the best. I'm also a candidate.