The green mountains are faint, and the green water is far away. I stand at the door of literature. I see that what you are circulating in that door is pen and ink, which outlines the charm of the cool breeze and the bright moon; Indus drizzle, red candle in the west window, I stood at the door of literature, I saw the deep long-lasting love flowing in that door.

In the twilight, the lights like beans and the books like sails sent me to the door of literature. Jieshi hero, who lives in the East, sang a song about wine and recited it by the river. Even though the years dyed his temples red, he still sang: "An old horse crouches tiger, aiming at a thousand miles;" The immortal voice of the martyrs in their later years is full of courage, and the vigorous spirit can't help but make me applaud.

The poetess who drifted and sank in troubled times dyed her hatred for the country into the sadness of spinning willow smoke and blowing plum flute. Even if there are more people than yellow flowers in the west wind rolling curtains, she will still fall into a desperate situation to show gentleness and leave a deep impression. Those sonorous and soft poems splashed back and gradually disappeared in the long river of history.

I stood at the door of literature, watching Gan Kun and Li Bai drinking and singing "Into the Wine" by the stream; Jia Dao in repeated scrutiny; Su Shi is lamenting the sadness that "who knows that life is indispensable, the running water in front of the door can still go west"; Lu Yu traveled all over Qian Shan and wrote The Book of Tea. Sima Qian endured humiliation and wrote historical records in the rain. They also worked hard and made brilliant achievements in history. It's worth learning. We will surpass them in the future!

Standing at the gate of literature has made me understand too much. I firmly believe that more people will stand at the gate of study with me. Let's work together!