Ask your friends for help in finding a prose poem suitable for teachers to recite

The Law of the Human Heart

Shu Ting

For a Flower Flowers and death

It is worth it

Indifferent wheels

Rough boot soles

Make the spring rainbow

< p> Eclipsed in all eyes

Neither able to stop

And nowhere to tell

Then, die in protest

Yes Worth it

Being silent for a word

is worth it

Far better than the tide

Falling like an avalanche

This sentence

Tightly sealed by lips

Draw all the honesty and courage in life

This sentence cannot be said

So, is it worth staying silent to avoid betrayal

To keep a promise for life?

Endure loneliness for a dedication?

Yes, life should not be squandered arbitrarily

But human hearts have their own laws

If we could

let us die a thousand times A hundred times

Our silence turns to stone

Like a mineral seedling

Indicates existence in the rapid passage of time

However, remember Live

The strongest protest

The bravest honesty

Nothing is better than——

How about living and speaking to music and reciting prose and poetry?

Isn’t it just a matter of combining light music with prose and then reciting it separately?

Suitable for the soundtrack of the prose poem recitation of "Welcoming the 18th National Congress"

Background music soundtrack for poetry recitation

Praising the motherland:

1 ***He Guo Zhi Love 2 I am like snowflakes coming from the sky 3 Ode to the Red Flag 4 Long March Symphony 1 5 Long March Symphony 2 6 March of the Volunteers 7 Five-Star Red Flag 8 Yellow River Piano Concerto 9 The Voice of Hometown 1 10 The Voice of Hometown 2 11 The Voice of Hometown 3 12 Ten Send the Red Army Soundtrack 13 The soundtrack of youthful China 14 The Yellow River chant 15 Me and my motherland 16 Ballad of the Great Wall 17 The Yellow River holds my hand 18 The country is boundless 19 Climbing the snowy mountain 20 The same song 21 Song of the Yangtze River 22 Big brother, he is back 23 Dragon soul 24 Big dream Dunhuang 25 The Founder 26 Xijiang Moon · Jinggangshan 27 Manjianghong · and Guo Moruo 28 Qilu · Occupy Nanjing 29 Die Lianhua · Reply to Li Shuyi 30 Bodhisattva Man · Yellow Crane Tower 31 Qinyuanchun · Snow 32 Return to Jinggangshan 33 Long March 34 Gathering in China 35 Singing High Towards tomorrow 36 Under the bright sunshine 37 China of hope moves towards the future 38 Long live the motherland 39 Good times 40 Servant of the people 41 Never forget the spring breeze 42 The party flag is more colorful 43 The strongest voice of the times 44 Under the bright sunshine 45 Under your flag 46 The song will never fall 47 On the land of joy 48 The soundtrack for the recitation of the prose poem "Spring" by Zhu Ziqing in praise of the motherland

Recommend the following two songs...

Crystal Ball Crystal Ball

The Dream of Snow is a prose suitable for reciting with music

Night Thoughts on Autumn Rain

After the Rain

At Night

Walking slowly on the street washed by the autumn rain

The breeze carries the messy drizzle

Blindfolded

The ripples are light and rippling in the heart

The misty rain is vast

The city is beautiful Ni Hong

The sorrow is scattered all over the place

How many dreams are broken by tears in the world of mortals

Picking up a handkerchief and wiping my face alone

The moment when longing lingers

Whether we meet the same long-cherished thoughts again

The window sill filled with the fragrance of magnolia

Looking through the autumn water and thinking alone

Whose song of departure floats in the rain

Listen to the lingering ears

The sorrow of the secular world melts in the rain

The cool autumn rain in the silent night

Wipe away the dust of the world

Also hope to wash away the vicissitudes of life

I have a poem to recite, please help me find the background music

< p> :video.baidu./v?word=%CA%AB%C0%CA%CB%D0%B1%B3%BE%B0%D2%F4%C0%D6+&ct=301989888&rn=20&pn=0&db=0&s < /p>

Originally my own shadow

But always walking in front of me

As invisible as light

As unstable as wind

p>

There is always a distance between you and her

Like the birds outside the window

Like the flowing clouds in the sky

Like the butterflies by the river< /p>

Both cunning and beautiful

If you go up, she will fly

If you ignore her, she will chase you

She will always be with you< /p>

Until the end of breathing.

There are others

Maybe it was the heavy rain yesterday

Maybe it was the clear sky today

Maybe it was the hazy light in the morning Fog

Maybe it is the fiery sunset at dusk

Or it should be an oasis in the desert

It must be the force of progress

Hope< /p>

Hu Shi

I come from the mountains to represent the orchid grass.

Plant it in a small garden and hope the flowers will bloom well.

Look once a day, and the time passes when you look at the flowers.

There is not a single flower-growler who is anxious.

Seeing that autumn is here, I moved flowers to offer at home.

When the spring breeze returns next year, I wish you a pot full of flowers. (There seems to be a song Orchid Grass also sings like this)

I hope to adopt it! How to download prose poetry recital works with music from the Internet

Audio prose recitation works uploaded on the Internet are basically in MP3 format, and a small number of them are in WMA format. I don’t know which website you heard these recitations on. Generally speaking, if you use IE browser, then if you have installed Thunder, when you click your mouse on the player, "Download" will appear. "Two words, you can click to download. This method is suitable for pages where the player can be seen.

If you can't see the player, you have to go to the temporary folder on your computer, where you can find the recording you want to listen to. I want some prose poems about scenes for the recitation competition. Please help.

Text\Misty Tower

The Taste of Cherry

There are hundreds of flowers in spring and a moon in autumn. The flowers in spring are the most spectacular in the four seasons, whether they are beautiful or not. Whether it is the humble wildflower or the magnificent peony, they all have their own individual beauty. Here we are talking about cherries. The flowers of the cherry are white and unobtrusive, blooming among the green leaves. When the flowers fade, the green leaves still exist, protecting the fruit, the child of the flower, from wind and rain, and continue to contribute indispensable energy.

Is this a bit like our parents? If one leaves without saying goodbye and hurriedly embarks on another journey of life, what is left is the green leaves, protecting us from wind and rain and contributing our strength. I remembered an essay called "The Angel Who Shouldn't Have Been Gone". It said that a single father in a divorced family worked hard for his children. When the child was older and asked about his mother's whereabouts, he just said: The Angel who shouldn't have gone. . That is probably the most wonderful answer about divorce.

As soon as spring passes, the cherries are ripe. It is the season when catkins are flying, it is the season when our children have just changed into shorts and shorts, and it is also the season for eating cherries.

The cherries are ripe, and the bright red cherries are dotted among the leaves in clusters, which is so cute. The city I am in is Tai'an. I don't know if other places are like ours. You can eat cherries in spring. The bright red cherries bring a little bit of joy to the sleepy spring. Some cherries have not yet been harvested. Fully mature, it looks only half-red, and tastes only sweet but astringent, just like our precious youth and the precious green love in our youth. Unripe love is always sweet but astringent, just like this unripe cherry. Ripe cherries are delicious. One cherry will fill your mouth with fragrance, sweetness and refreshing. Ripe cherries can also be garnished on various pastries of different flavors, especially desserts. The embellishing of cherries makes these delicious pastries more attractive and lovable. Doesn’t this look like our wonderful life? The cherry is a small embellishment in that wonderful life. With its existence, life becomes more touching. This cherry is mature love, everlasting friendship, mutual support in adversity, and the love between husband and wife who share the joys and sorrows.

The beauty of cherries lies in their ability to embellish. It succumbs to the position of embellishment and plays an unimportant role. However, when this position occupies your mind and this role penetrates into your heart, you You will no longer underestimate them, and they will become indispensable.

This is the cleverness of Cherry.

The intelligence of cherries does not stop there. I remember when I was a child, when the cherries were ripe, we would often receive uninvited guests, mostly magpies, who came with the belief of pecking out all the cherries.

I remember an article saying that a fruit farmer in one place picked all the persimmons when they were ripe. As a result, all the magpies who had lost their food for the winter froze to death. As a result, the pests plagued the next year and the persimmons were destroyed. No harvest. The fruit farmers who have learned the lesson know the importance of magpies, and will deliberately leave some when harvesting persimmons in the future for magpies to spend the winter. There are several ripe persimmons hanging on the persimmon trees that have lost all their leaves in winter, which is also a strange scenery.

When my grandma harvested cherries, she would also leave some for magpies and other birds to enjoy. I don’t know why she did this, because the magpies here also have places to forage in winter, so they will not starve to death. Grandma had a very good and simple answer to my question: "Give the birds a taste." Yes, give it to the birds and let them taste the taste of cherries. This is a gift without expecting anything in return. Good deeds, as Buddha said: "Doing good without expecting anything in return is truly good!" It seems to be Jigong's famous saying. That crazy monk can always tell the secrets in people's hearts and always bring out the best in people. This is the wisdom of Buddha and the wisdom of Cherry.

A maple tree

Whether it is the lonely spring flowers that fill the hall, or the white snow that covers the big boots, I can always think of that tree at a specific time. The green maple tree, in the light and heat of summer, in the rain and wind of summer, stretches its branches and leaves to its fullest, absorbs the rain, grows to its fullest, and exudes vitality. Sometimes there will be birds singing on it, sometimes there will be the breeze blowing across its face, sometimes there will be rain and dew sprinkled on it...

Sometimes, there will be us naughty children crawling on it. onto his shoulders.

It is a maple tree planted on the campus. In summer, it is full of green. No one knows what it is thinking, no one knows what it wants to do, it just stands in the wind, watching us singing under the tree.

The sky on campus is always quiet and azure. The blue sky is like a huge piece of glass. When a bird flies over in the sky, or a white cloud floats by, the maple tree Tree, what joy it must be!

It held its head high, letting the branches and leaves on its body sing a tireless song in the wind. It held its head high, watching the clouds coming and going above its head, and the birds flying here and there. Flock - Birds are angels in the world and partners of trees. When the tree is at its loneliest, the birds will land on the tree and whisper to it, telling it the stories that happened in the sky and the secrets of the clouds and the sun.

The school is often filled with the sound of books, and the sound of children’s reading echoes in the school for a long time. I think that tree has heard the sound of our reading too much, and it should be a little dark. If this tree had a soul, it would use the words it learned to compose a modern poem.

What is going to come will eventually come. For example, in that incident that was undoubtedly a matter of life and death for the maple tree, my family had to pull a wire wrapped with thin wire and happened to pass by the maple tree. The wire wrapped in iron wire was tightly inserted into its body, but it was still alive. The wire was pulled straight by the locomotive. When it passed the tree, it cut into its body without hesitation. Then, dragged by the locomotive, it cut through its skin and cut into its flesh and blood. its body.

When I was in the classroom, I had been worried about it. I was worried that it would break and end its glorious life, but, you know, it didn't die. After class, I hurriedly ran to see it. I saw the thick wires cutting deeply into its body, and I seemed to hear its painful cries.

The choke point is just under the crown of the tree. Next to the crown of the tree, the iron wire has been strangled into its body. If it had blood, thick blood should flow out. !

I feel sorry for it, but I didn’t say it. Many years later, I opened the photo album of my memory again, and its green image is still vivid in my mind, just like yesterday, I looked at it Among the blurry figures in the photo album, it is the only one that is so clear.

After graduating from middle school, I finally came to a big city and saw a different scenery from the mountain village. I breathed in the air full of copper smell and walked on the busy but seemingly deserted streets. All disharmony reminds me of the maple tree, the maple tree that was strangled into the body by the wire.

I miss it, but my maple tree, you are far away, will you miss me? I miss you just like I miss my mother in my hometown, but my maple tree, have you ever reminded me of me gently on a sunny day?

I suspect that something called responsibility is calling me, calling me back to the place where I was born and raised, because my roots are there. There are my maple trees and my folks.

But, can I go back? I can only work hard in the city for survival and meager salary. I am as busy as a top, and I can only be like a top, otherwise I will have no place to stand.

It was a flowerless tree. It looked at me in the wind, watching me and watching how I went upstream to find the meaning of life.

After I got married, I returned to that small mountain village. I saw familiar faces that I hadn’t seen for a long time, but what I was most anxious to see was the maple tree, the maple tree that was strangled into the body by wires. I looked at it on the hillside of the mountain village, and I saw a tree with a green shade on top. It lived so freely and freely.

That is a tree in the mountains, that is a tree that has taken root in my heart. It is calling me, calling me, I will come back, I will come back, my maple Tree... ,

A Cut of Moonlight

Text\Misty Tower

Perhaps, many things in memory will gradually grow old as time goes by. , like an old plum blossom in the wind. They drove in the cold wind, but they never shivered like us weak humans. They just raised their heads in the wind and smiled at the wind and snow. Every time I see a plum blossom in the wind, I will think of my not-so-splendid childhood. I remember that the color of my childhood was gray, but my parents taught me to hold my head high and smile at life, so those childhoods that were never brilliant were Memories are all dyed with rich and gorgeous colors.

The most unforgettable thing for me is the cut of moonlight through the window.

I don’t know what else can remain in my memory and shine brightly in the depths of my memory. I don’t know, I don’t know. All I know is that the memories of my parents will never grow old.

The wind blows the old orioles, the rain fattens the plums, the breeze blows my gray childhood, all the memories are packed and sealed in the deepest part of the years, I only remember my mother’s smiling face, so kind . I remember my mother took us to the fields to do farm work. At that time, my mother was wearing coarse clothes. Her most luxurious piece of clothing was a woolen top with purple and black flowers. When I snuggled next to my mother, I could feel her warmth. body temperature.

I still remember the eagerness of my little brother as he was a toddler. My father taught him how to walk. Every step he took, his father beamed with joy. I don’t know what it’s like to be a father. I think when I was a toddler, Dad must be smiling like this too.

Every step my brother takes seems to be stepping on his father's heart. When my brother finally learned to walk, I wonder how happy my parents were.

In rural areas, the rain during the yellow plum season can keep the plants wet all summer. During the yellow plum season, drizzle fell one after another. In the endless darkness, I looked into my mother's eyes. Mom's eyes are always as bright as the stars and as clear as the moonlight.

The rain during the yellow plum season, mixed with the cool wind, invaded our hut. I was at the door, staring at the boundless darkness outside the door. I think my eyes at that time should be like those of a child. Silence, those are a pair of eyes that do not know the feeling of sorrow, those are a pair of eyes that are not familiar with the world, and do not understand the hardships of the world. What is completely different from my mother's eyes is that there is always an inexplicable sadness in my eyes. I always thought that I came to this world to repay debts. The debt I owed my mother in my previous life would be repaid with a lifetime of love; the debt I owed my father in my previous life would be repaid with a lifetime of filial piety. But God, how can I repay you? I am clearly in debt to them again!

That seems to be a debt from the next life, which needs to be repaid by the love of the next life.

There is always a touch of sadness in my eyes, and my mother is always sure of victory. When I was hesitating at the door, she just said to me, Ann, close the door! That's all.

However, just this sentence made me unable to repay my life! Mother, if one day I really grow up - I don’t know when I will grow up and when I will be able to swim outside the sea of ??mother’s eyes. If I really grow up, what do I want to do? Give back to your mother? I hope that at that time, my eyes can also contain my mother's smile and have the shadow of my mother's smile.

My father’s smile was always cynical. I thought that my father was a smart man. Smart people don’t care about trivial matters. In the countryside, when the first camera appeared, almost every family took pictures. Mutually. In the photo, my father’s smile is still as misty as smoke. Several years later, I can still feel my father’s uncontrollable joy in front of the camera. I saw my father’s armpits. On the left is me, and on the right are my brothers and sisters. They All are smiling.

That day, the yellow plum rain was particularly heavy. The moment my mother closed the window, I saw her stubborn eyes. The next day, when the rain stopped and the wind subsided, and the birds sang, a yellow bird, probably an oriole, flew over our yard. I knew that it must have seen my mother's eyes, which were a pair of strange eyes. The eyes that are understood by the world are the ones that reveal the most touching warmth when looking at children.

I will never forget it.

That day, the moon was extraordinarily round. After I closed the door, I went to bed. I opened my eyes and looked at my mother in the light. The warmth in my heart could not be added. I don’t know what the most beautiful warmth is. , I only know that a mother’s love is something that can never be repaid in a lifetime. For this reason, I often deeply repent in my heart and deeply repent for my mother's love.

Then I saw that the moon after the yellow plum rain flashed past in my mother's eyes, like a cut shadow. On the glass of the window, it also flashed past, like a cold light that was cut off.

Huangmeiyu

The rain during the Huangmei season soaked my summer. I snuggled next to the door, waiting for my mother to come home from farm work.

At night, the lights were like beans. I looked at my mother sewing seriously in the dim light and felt inexplicably safe. I remembered what a cleaner said. At that time, someone asked him what he wanted most after having enough food and clothing. He replied: "Safety." Yes, safety. The chicks will feel safe under the wings of the hen, everything. Little lives will feel safe under the protection of their mother. Just as we grow up and gain some things, such as youth and beauty, we will also lose some things, such as security - a feeling that can only be obtained in the arms of a mother.

The rain in the yellow plum season was pattering, falling, falling. Before going to bed, my mother said to me: "Second, close the door." So I got up, went to the door, I looked outside the door and saw boundless darkness. The night seemed like a big steamer, surrounding everything. I couldn't hear the chirping of birds or the murmuring of chicks, only the sound of rain and rustling.

I stretched out my hand, and raindrops fell on my hand. I took my hand back, and in the weak candlelight, I saw a little quiet moisture on the palm of my hand. At that time, I was about seven years old.

The seven-year-old rain, the yellow plum rain, is pouring, pouring, and falling. I looked at the boundless darkness outside the door and felt a trace of helplessness pouring into my life for the first time.

"Ann, close the door." It was my mother's voice. I heard it. I reached out my hand again, caught some raindrops, then retracted my hand, stopped looking, and closed the door.

When the door is closed, everything is locked out. The boundless darkness, Huang Meiyu when she was seven years old, and the trace of helplessness, everything is locked away. outside the door. In the room, there was a dim candlelight, and the flame was beating and dancing weakly. I saw my mother's face, illuminated by candlelight, looking unusually peaceful. Yes, that was the Huang Meiyu when I was seven years old. The Huang Meiyu when I was seven years old soaked my young heart.

In the rain, everything is so quiet. Our cabin should be a different scenery in the rain. The paper windows shine with light, and a few candlelights leak out from the gaps in the door. In the quiet night, it looks... So peaceful.

I snuggled next to my mother. She didn’t know how hesitant I was just now. It was like walking alone in a long rainy alley with no one to accompany me. I looked at my mother’s kind face and felt that I was young and knew no worries. Who am I? I gradually fell asleep in the candlelight. In my dream, the candlelight danced and danced blankly in the quiet rainy night. It was a hymn to life.

The candlelight that night

Tonight, the bright moon rises in the east, illuminating the earth and bringing light to the earth. At that time, there was no moon, only the red candlelight illuminated my young heart.

At that time, I didn’t know that there was a word in the world called “the shadow of a candle shakes red.” I only knew that the red candlelight that day reflected my mother’s face and my young heart.

How can I count how many poems there are in the world that praise my mother? I only know that in my young heart, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. The candlelight that night, in the night of power outage, kept beating and shaking, telling an ordinary story. I know that behind every ordinary story, there must be an extraordinary life. Just like the calm water, there are often turbulent undercurrents below. Still water runs deep, this is what is said.

I looked at my mother’s eyes, shining like stars on a summer night. The brightest star should be my mother’s eyes.

That night, the red candlelight left an everlasting mark on my monotonous life. I know that not everything will leave traces on your heart. "The water still leaves traces, but the wind leaves no traces." This is true. People often say that it is not unreasonable to let the past go with the wind. After all, the human heart is fragile and overwhelmed. I remember that there is a small insect called a locust in ancient literature, which carries everything it encounters along the way. I picked up things and climbed higher, but there were too many things, so I climbed too slowly, and finally fell to my death.

But moths are different. Some people hope to discover the secrets of life through the wings of water moths, but I cannot. I just watched that night by candlelight. The candlelight that night filled a hut through a thin layer of red paper. That hut was where my mother and I lived. There were also my two brothers. They had all fallen asleep and were doing something. Sweet dreams. I seemed to see their smiles in a dream.

A moth flew in from the window and flew directly towards the red candlelight. If it were not blocked by the paper cover, it would probably die. I sigh for it.

My mother drove the moth away, let it fly out of the window, and then continued to do her unfinished work.

Tonight’s moonlight illuminates the darkness tonight. I know that my mother is watching me in the sky. It is the eternal regret of every child that the child wants to be taken care of but cannot be cared for. My mother's smile, like the moonlight tonight, illuminates my gray heart.

Today, ten years later, I look at the candlelight that night through ten years of time, just like through several layers of frosted glass. The candlelight that night, even after ten years, shines warmly into my heart like it is separated by several layers of glass. My face was once again illuminated by the candlelight. It was the candlelight from ten years ago. It swayed and swayed in the depths of the years, constantly exuding charming brilliance.

You are a lonely flower stand / Misty Terrace

?You are a lonely flower stand. I know that it has been your habit for many years. In every early spring season, you put up a lonely flower stand. A beautiful flower stand, and then plant cucumbers or beans that children love to eat at the foot of the flower stand, and then let the spring breeze blow on this lonely flower stand. The lonely flower stand is no longer lonely because of your arrival.

?Now, you have a head full of silver hair, but you still stick to the habit you have developed over the years, setting up a lonely flower stand in early spring.

?The spring breeze seems to be able to blow the young swallows, allowing them to fly freely in the blue sky. The spring breeze blew their feathers, so their feathers gradually became plump, and they began to fight in the sky. However, isn't this fact a bit cruel to Lao Yan? The new swallows grew up and began to fight in the sky. In the empty nest, only two old swallows were left, sighing with regret. However, I don’t think they regret it, because children have their own ideals and their own sky. They should fly away and find their own future. The same is true for you, even if you are facing an empty home, you are still happy because the children have grown up and have families. This is the best reward for your mother.

?For the children, you are also an endless spring breeze. Under your care, the children have grown up and have gone to work, diligently and conscientiously. In their ordinary positions, they have made extraordinary achievements.

?However, in the end, you became a lonely old man. In the early spring, just after the New Year, the children left, and you fell into deep loneliness again.

There is only a lonely flower stand by your side.

?Grandma, now I come to see you. I see your silver hair flying in the wind. You came to the village entrance to greet me, which makes me flattered. I didn't know your difficulties at that time. I only knew that your children were filial and could give you a generous living allowance. However, I ignored an important fact, that is, you are a lonely old man who needs your children to surround you. , need a full house of descendants. You want your children to be around you - "The older child is hoeing beans to the east of the stream, the middle child is weaving chicken coops, and the younger child is most fond of scoundrels, lying at the head of the stream peeling lotus pods." This is the life you want.

?But, who can give it to you?

?There is only a lonely flower stand, blooming quietly in the spring breeze, spreading its branches and leaves in the summer rain, and bearing abundant fruits in the autumn light - but there is no one to accompany you to pick it.

?Grandma, I’m here, I’m here, I will stay a little longer so that you will no longer be lonely. But what happens after I leave? Who will accompany you?

?I looked at the flower stand with branches and leaves stretching out in the morning breeze of early spring, and smiled quietly. However, there were two lines of tears, unsatisfactorily sliding down from the corners of my eyes, quietly, quietly. My dear, I know that those two lines of tears were shed for you.

The alley is cramped. Text / Misty Terrace

? There will be some things that suddenly break into your heart when you are most careless, catching you off guard.

?That is the alley in my memories. That is a rainy alley, that is a narrow rainy alley.

?There was no lilac-like girl in plain clothes there, there were only elders from my hometown.

?In my dreams, I often return to that alley, where my childhood dreams are recorded. That's where the dream begins. I vaguely remember that on a sunny noon, I woke up from my sleep, yawned, and then smelled the fragrance of flowers in a daze.

?I don’t know who picked the wild flowers pinned to my door in the wild, and who secretly pinned them to my door. He (she) not only gave me a bouquet of flowers, but also gave me sweetness in my sleep, fragrance after I woke up, and a wonderful mood.

?I think before I woke up, he or she had walked out of that alley, the alley where I lived. That alley is so short, so short, as short as a morning longing.

?The morning sun is so naughty. It teases my eyes happily and makes me laugh. I felt something whispering softly in my ear, it was the sound of morning sunshine. I felt something kissing my cheeks again, and I knew it was sunlight.

?What slipped quietly down my face were my tears.

?Am I moved by the morning light? No, what moved me was the bouquet of flowers and the person who presented them.

?I finally know that in this world, there are still some people who care about me and my lonely soul. So he sent me a bouquet of flowers and his heartfelt message at the same time.

?That's not just a bouquet of flowers, that's a beating heart.

?I remember that I often walked through that alley, and I knew that there were my fellow villagers there. They are the memories of my childhood and my attachment when I grow up. Today, I walked in that alley again, but the difference is that this time I returned to that haunted place in my dream.

?I vaguely saw my uncle, my aunt, my uncle, and my brother. They were standing or sitting, all frozen in that short alley.

?I just walked over. Some of them were eating, and nothing changed because of my arrival. Still eating, he just raised his eyes and glanced at me. I walked over, quietly, quietly.

?Time stopped at that moment.

?I remember you again, my fellow countrymen. I came to see you in a dream. I know that of course it was just a dream, because I, who is far away in a foreign country, can only do this in a dream. See you closely, my father and fellow countrymen.

?I don’t know if you will blame me for this, because I walked by so quietly without saying hello to you. I don’t think so, because you are my fellow villagers.

?Why didn’t I say hello? Because it was just a dream.

?It’s raining.

?It was a rainy morning. I was too young at that time. I only remember that it was a rainy morning. I was walking in that short rainy alley. I didn’t see any girl. The candy in my hand had not been finished yet, but it was getting better and better. Less, I know, it's like my time in this alley, although sweet, has become shorter and shorter.

?There is smoke from cooking in the rain, and green smoke is rising from every chimney, slanting in the wind. How to make a prose poem with soundtrack

1: In terms of environment, try to choose a quieter place, and in terms of equipment, choose a better quality headset.

2: Choose software that can edit sounds and supports recording.

Three: read aloud through the headset while the software is executing, and let the compiler add it to the played music, and your purpose will be achieved.

Also: It is recommended to simply edit the sound first, such as the fade-in and fade-out at the beginning and end, or the transition when two songs are connected, etc.