Imitation of the golden flower in return for mother s love begins with if I become anything .

The imitation of the golden flower is as follows:

If I became a butterfly, just for fun, flying next to the blooming roses, dancing lightly on the flowers, Mom, would you know me?

You look for me everywhere, and I flapp my wings there secretly, but silently.

When you have lunch, walk to the flower pot on the balcony, and water the roses carefully, you will see the colorful colors, and that's what I have changed. Mom, you said that you like butterflies very much, and your favorite is colorful butterflies, and my mother has only seen them twice, and then I wanted to become a colorful butterfly. This way mom will be happy every day.

When you're done watering the roses, sit on the balcony, drink tea, and rest quietly. At this time I will bring the petals, let them fall on your forehead, and kiss the tired face. But would you guess that this is a little gift for your child?

When evening thou hast come to the table with a delicious meal, I will fall down on my chair and become your child again, pour me a glass of fresh milk.

You're going to **, you bad boy? I don't tell you, Mom. "That's what you and I were going to say then.

Features of the text "Golden Flower".

It is strangely conceived, rich in imagination, and the image of a perfect mother is about to emerge. He mainly observes his mother's "day's work" from the eyes of a child, showing his appreciation and attachment to his mother, and entrusting the ideal mother image in the poet's mind. If it is written directly, it is not poetry.

Therefore, the poet used the imagination of his incomparable genius to make the child purely for "fun" at the beginning, imagining himself to become a beautiful, happy, and free "golden flower", "growing on the high branches of the tree, swaying in the air with a smile, and dancing on the new leaves", and then, "quietly stretching the petals, watching you work", so that the artistic conception of the poem comes out, which is not only in line with the child's curious and innocent nature, but also quietly opens the prelude to the layout of the main part of the poem.

Stars If I become a star, for fun, hang high in the night sky, laugh and dance on the clouds. At that time, Mom, will you recognize me?

If you can't find me, cry out, "Son, where have you gone?" I was secretly smiling, but I was silent.

I'm going to shine and look at you high in the night sky.

After dinner, the wind blows the ends of your hair and you walk through the woods and on the paths. I blinked. You can see a glimmer of light, but you don't know it's the light I'm radiating.

When you sit in the backyard, under the moon and read "The Stars", my faint light falls on the book, casts on the page, and that's where you read.

But can you guess that this light is a little shadow of your daughter?

When you push open the door with a book, I suddenly fall to the ground and become me again—your child again, and I grab you by the corner of your clothes.

Where have you been, naughty guy? "You scratched the bridge of my nose dotingly.

It's a secret, Mom. "That's what I'm going to tell you.

No qaq ...... at all

If I turn into a snowflake, drifting aimlessly.

Pacing softly with broken thoughts.

Across the white snow bridge, the lead-gray sky is quiet.

Staring at the scarf that my mother was looking forward to in the window, the faint pink was warm and scattered.

Without hesitation, I swirled and swirled towards it with a neon glow.

As I imagined, tears welled up in my mother's tattooed eyes.

Dreams rise, dreams fall, day after day.

Transpiration is the mist of the distant mother's back.

I'll give you a start, that's it, I wrote it on the spot.

Or maybe you're too lazy to use this.

If you're a good boy, go ahead and write......Although it will not be like ...... at all

If I become the wind, I can dance as I please.

Over the mountains, over the fields.

Gently I came to my mother's side, like a naughty child, playing with the fallen leaves. Stroking his mother's face as she grew old day by day. my mother; "Did you see that? I'm right around you. Do you hear the call of my heart? ”

You face the wind and look into the distance. Whose return are you looking forward to, am I? Mom, you don't know, I'm right there with you. Because I miss you

If I become a clear stream, I will let my mother come to me when she is tired from work, listen to me sing a cheerful song, and shake off the exhaustion all over my body; When she is thirsty, I want her to taste my sweet water and make her radiant again.

Russia is also worried about how to write???

I'm so upset!!

If I become a small umbrella, I will shelter my mother from the wind and rain on a rainy day; If I become a seven-colored flower, I will do my best to fulfill my mother's wishes; If I become a tree, I will shade my mother in the summer. If I become a bird, I will offer my mother the most glove when she is tired, and gently care for her hands and protect her delicate skin when she washes and washes dishes.

If I become a lamp, I will light the way for my mother to walk at night;

If I become a glass of water, I will quench my mother's thirst;

If I become a gust of wind, I will bring a cool and beautiful sound to my mother.

If I become a wild chrysanthemum (or other flower), will you know me, Mom?

I'll quietly watch you work, study and play on the sidelines.

When you exclaim, "Kid, are you a**?" "I'll sneak there and laugh, but I won't make a sound.

When you're relaxing in the sun, my little shadow will be cast there, and you know it's your sweet child?

In the evening, I'll pop out and beg you to watch TV with me, and you'll ask, "You're going to **, you bad boy?" I don't tell you, Mom. ”

That's what you and I'm going to say at that time.

Stay on your mother's head, use it as a beautiful hairpin for your mother, and let your mother radiate vitality.

Suppose I were a golden flower.

I am a golden flower.

Bloom in this vain world.

I would feel sad and lonely.

Who can be like-minded with me?

I am a golden flower.

Someone will envy my beauty Pretty.

But they don't see what I'm doing.

It's like the green pine on the snow rock, tenacious.

Suppose I were a golden flower.

I'm not going to show off too much.

I'm going to find a way to tell them.

You can also bloom golden flowers.

Suppose I were a golden flower.

I want to work hard and strive for self-improvement.

Bloom the most beautiful flowers.

Dedicated to my motherland, my all.

If I become a small, little green worm, Mother, please protect me with your wide wings and get a little little warmth for me.

I grew my feet slowly, slowly, Mom, please let go of the hand that held me tightly and let me climb on my own, please don't worry, no matter how muddy the ground is, I will also crawl slowly, slowly into the depths of the woods.

Mother, when you teach me to eat leaves, please teach me patiently, patiently, hand in hand, don't think that I will learn everything quickly, your kindness will make me learn patiently, patiently.

Mom, when you see me secretly going to play with the little ants when I should be studying; When you're angry that I threw a big piece of corn when I jumped, think of the phrase "I'm just a little green worm."

Gradually, gradually, I grew stronger and fatter, and you would always nag at that time: "Look at how slender the dragonflies are, and how tall the cockroach brother next door is." "I will say impatiently:

Sick of it. "Mom, please don't be angry, you have to believe that your child is following his own path, and it will grow up gradually, gradually.

It's late autumn, and I've got a big, big cocoon, Mom, I think that's when you're the proudest, and you're braving the cold to stay by the cocoon, looking forward to it, looking forward to ......

That kind of love, I can feel it in my dreams in a cocoon.

One day, I shed my cocoon and finally flew freely in the sky. And you are old, you can no longer fly, more of a wait-and-see, just like when I was a child I looked up enviously at you in the sky. Maybe at this time, you are more relieved and disappointed.

But don't worry, Mom, I'm still going to come back to you, and by then, Mom, please still call me Little Green Worm!

I scented my mother and cast my shadow on the pages of her book because I loved her so much and wanted to do something for her -- "secretly" and "quietly" because I wanted to do something for my mother but not for her compliments.