Ma Zhiyuan s Tianjing Shaqiu Si is written as a scene essay, which should be short, 100 words

Withered vines and old trees and crows have come all the way here, and I have wandered here, and I have struggled to walk here; This is my landscape, leaving your world, like a green vine withering and aging. There is no more spreading youth to burn. I am like rain, and you are the migratory bird, which has always been accustomed to sense my arrival and quickly hide; You are like the wind, and I am a drifting cloud, and every fantasy is shattered by meeting you.

I am a vine, always want to entangle my thoughts and love with you, and you are not the majestic old tree, willing to connect with me with the same root, the faint crow that flies away is another expression of you to me The small bridge and flowing water are fine trickling, clear, twisting and turning. You and I are separated from each other, and the water and the letter are connected. In a few words, how can it be so thoughtful?

The bridges are connected, the friendship is strong, and it is the joy of the eyebrows. The festive people on both sides of the strait, the house is full of red, how can you be jealous? Guarding the token, where is Nian You?

The stream sustenance of thoughts, running into the distance, day and night. This thought, how can you be so worried? The ancient road west wind thin horse I raised the whip and continued the footsteps of the previous life.

The ruins of the ancient road are still there, and the weeds have covered the way. Looking into the distance, the future is boundless, ** is my home? The wind was blowing in my hair, as if it had been centuries, so familiar.

As the sun sets, stretching my east-facing figure, loneliness is not with me, and the lean horse is bent down to nibble on the vines of the esophagus. Only by firming up my pace can I look for your dawn in the direction of the wind. The sunset is setting, the heartbroken man is at the end of the world The sunset is so beautiful, but it is so short.

Just like life, it is short and beautiful. Sometimes people can grasp and control everything, but only emotions control people. What is love, what is love?

Because there is no answer, go and look for it. The person who found the answer was broken, drifting to other places, until he was lonely and old, but he still talked about that ageless love.

To the west, a remnant sun shot diagonally from the barren mountain, and everything on the ground was covered in a blur of blood.

The autumn wind came at me mercilessly, and at the same time it eroded my soul.

I walked alone in a foreign land, accompanied only by the skinny old horse that I got along with day and night. After many days of wandering, it was already exhausted like me. I staggered forward with it, hoping to spend the night at someone else's house, but there seemed to be no end in sight to the desolate ancient road.

Just like my current state of mind, after today, I don't know if there will be tomorrow, I can only take one step at a time.

I led the old horse to a weeping tree, and when I looked at the few fragile branches that remained, I couldn't help but think of how vibrant it was in the mood for flowers. But now, the old tree in front of me has lost its brilliance and has become dim, and there is no shadow of life in it. The vines that wrapped around it had withered, and it looked so weak that it couldn't help but be windy.

Think about how vigorous its vitality was back then! Because of the tree, how fast it grows and how high it climbs. When it gradually grew old, it could no longer stand the ravages of wind and rain, and could only die silently.

The crow of the crow returning home at dusk broke the silent sky, and although it was a little vibrant, it was monotonous and harsh.

I pulled the old horse and continued to walk forward. I saw a small stream with a thin murmur of water, crystal clear. There was a small wooden bridge over the stream, only a foot wide, with uneven planks and unusually rudimentary.

The stream flowed in a tumbling stream, so free, so joyful, so carefree. Listening to the flowing water, the melancholy mood actually had a faint relief.

A few wisps of light smoke floated from the house in the dim sky, and the smell of rice greeted him. I looked back, and the pale yellow window paper reflected the happy smile of a family of three. Looking back at myself, I was lonely, alone, even if I was accompanied by an old horse, I couldn't reveal a trace of warmth.

My family, but in a distant homeland.

The heartbroken man is at the end of the world, wandering, wandering, wandering to distant places.

Tianjingsha Qiusi (the second).

The tender grass is mixed with mottled sand, and the river is rushing and gurgling in the clear stream that twists and turns not far away. In early autumn, there was already a little chill in the side plug. Suddenly, a loud cry of new geese, which I had just noticed, gradually disappeared into the green hills covered with red leaves under ......the yellow clouds

At dusk, an old tree entwined with dead vines fell on a crow returning to its nest at dusk. Flying sand swept across the town. A man appears at the end of the town's ancient road, leading a lean horse from hunger and overwork.

No, it shouldn't be said that, it should be said that it was the skinny horse who was holding him. He was forced by his family to wander outside. His eyes had long since lost their former light, and in their place was confusion and hesitation.

The river sparkles in the sunset, and the cottages of several families are small but extra welcoming.

Hope this helps.

Dead vines entwined the old trees, and on the branches roosted crows that had returned to their nests at dusk. Under the small bridge, the water is murmuring, and there are several families next to it. On the ancient and desolate road, the autumn breeze is bleak, and a tired thin horse carries the wanderer.

The sun is slowly setting in the west, and the extremely sad traveler is still adrift at the end of the world.

Ma Zhiyuan was keen on fame when he was young, but due to the high-pressure policy of the Yuan rulers, he never achieved his ambition. He lived a wandering life almost all his life, and he was depressed and embarrassed because of it. So during the lonely journey of detention, he wrote this poem "Tianjingsha Qiusi".

At dusk, crows chirp on old trees entwined with dead vines, and smoke curls from the small bridge. Thin horses on the ancient road, moving forward in the west wind. The sun sets in the west. Where will the traveler stay?

Tianjingsha Qiusi.

Withered vines and old trees, faint crows, small bridges and flowing water, ancient roads and westerly winds and thin horses.

The sun is setting, and the heartbroken man is at the end of the world.

Ma Zhiyuan (about 1250 about 1321 to 1324), a word Qianli, the number of the East Fence, (a name unknown, the word Zhiyuan, the evening number "East Fence"), was known as the "Horse Immortal" by later generations, Han nationality, a famous miscellaneous dramatist and essayist in the Yuan Dynasty, a native of Yuan Dadu (now Beijing), originally from Ma Citang Village, Dongguang County, Hebei Province. His age is later than Guan Hanqing, Bai Pu and others, born in about 1250 A.D., died in the first year of Zhizhi to 1321 after the first year of Taiding, and Guan Hanqing, Zheng Guangzu, Bai Pu and called "the four masters of Yuanqu." ”

Looking at the crows at dusk, they are looking for dead vines and old trees to perch on, and up close, they see people living with small bridges and flowing water, and only a thin horse carrying a wandering wanderer in front of them, slowly moving on the ancient road of autumn wind. Seeing that the afterglow of the sunset has already dimmed, the disemboweled people who are wandering outside are wandering the world.

As the sun set, I walked alone on the ancient road, accompanied by this old horse that never left me. Looking at the old vine trees on the side of the road and the crows resting on the branches, and looking at the houses on the other side of the small bridge in the distance, it aroused my deep longing for my hometown.

On an autumn twilight, on the desolate ancient road, the west wind blows vigorously and the leaves are flying; Beside the road, on the old tree with withered vines, the crows had returned to their nests, and from time to time they cried a few times; Not far away, in a sparse cottage near the small bridge and flowing water, people are preparing dinner, wisps of smoke. At this time, a man led a thin horse and slowly marched on the ancient road alone. It seems that this is a stranger, where will he stay?

On a map of a village in late autumn, a wandering wanderer, on the desolate ancient road where the sun is shining, leading a thin horse forward, facing the miserable autumn wind, I don't know what to look forward to.

Should find something happy, miss the autumn text.

In a quiet little village, there were three or two crows on a very old tree with withered vines coiled on it. Next to the old trees is a small old bridge, and under the bridge is a clear stream, on either side of which are rows of houses in a patchwork manner. I walked on this old road, riding a thin horse, watching the village at sunset, and I missed my hometown very much, but I was far away from my parents.

The withered branches tore at the remnants of the old tree's life, and the gray-headed crows roosted on the damaged branches without a trace of brilliance. The small bridge trampled by countless people still stands tenaciously, reflecting the stubborn reflection in the clear flowing water, and the silhouette-like home is also silent, like the ancient road that has dried up, experiencing the west wind that blew thousands of years ago. A thin horse, a dusty traveler, an elongated shadow, the sun is setting, where are you going to go sadly?

Is it the end of the world or home?

As dusk approached, crows stood on withered branches, and streams slowly descended past farmhouses across small bridges. On the sheep intestine path next to it, a thin horse came in the bleak autumn wind, and the afterglow of the setting sun sprinkled on the travelers far from home.

Withered vines and old trees, faint crows, small bridges and flowing water, ancient roads and westerly winds and thin horses.

On the path at dusk, I saw dead rattans wrapped around old trees. A sleepy crow squatted on a sparse branch. Under the small bridge, beside the flowing water, there were several families with laughter and laughter, which made me miss my hometown even more.

Riding on a scrawny horse and walking on an ancient road that no one walked, it made me feel even more homesick! Alas! The sun has finally set, but I, a lonely and sad stranger, are still adrift at the end of the world.

Will give a little higher little bit co-owners lonely with shareholders should be responsible.