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Tang Dynasty writer Sikong Tu "Washing".
Flowing water today, the bright moon is born before.
There is also a self-made reference.
1 lamp. Wine. Man.
Woman. Dance. **。
Crazy. Desire. A kind of brightly lit world.
A feeling of helplessness. Everything weighed down so painfully. Finally, I understood.
I don't belong in their world. So I escaped. But.
Everything is so suffocating. The people outside looked at me with a strange look. So I went back.
Lamp. Wine. Man.
Woman. Dance. **。
Crazy. Desire.
2 In the middle of winter, a flower blooms quietly, and then it is thanksgiving. No result.
3 Bars where men and women are dancing.
On the road, men and women are holding hands.
The world, men and women are separated.
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The helplessness of life sometimes does not come from the self, and others unintentionally build it, which is a kind of mistake. Life is contradictory, the distance between day and night, the cycle between spring, summer, autumn and winter, so there is a picky love, so that helplessness is added to the joyful waiting.
There is no quarrel with people, and it opens quietly A fragrant mountain lily quietly opens in my heart.
No one knows it exists, it's white, only my wanderer, on the lonely road, smiling at it.
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Flowers in the corner! When you are lonely, the world will be small.
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It's rare to have no more than 50 prose, so you can search for prose poems.
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The shortest prose is the Tang Dynasty writer Sikong Tu's "Refinement", the full text of which is as follows:
Flowing water today, the bright moon is born before.
Empty diagram. Expansion: Sikong Tu uses "flowing water today, the predecessor of the bright moon" to describe the beauty of the refinement of words in "Poetry and Refinement".
The flowing water is clean, which is called "washing", and the bright moon is pure, which is called "practice", which means that the work is like clear flowing water, and the crystal moonlight is its incarnation. These two metaphors show that language arts pay more attention to removing impurities and preserving their essence.
FYI.
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Who writes prose 50 words - -
I can't say more than ......
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Which famous writer's essay is under 100 words.
You told a fable of that.
Personal recommendation Bi Shumin's prose.
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Ground walking. I'm a stranger to the city, and I'm wandering around the city.
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The earth is the home of human beings, and there is only one home for us. If we destroy our homes, we have nowhere else to go. Therefore, we must protect our homeland and don't let it be sad anymore, the earth is crying!
Protecting the earth should first start from ourselves, from now, from the little things around us. The first thing we need to do is to stop letting the white garbage flutter in the wind, we must develop a good habit to pick it up and throw it into the designated place when we see white garbage on the ground anytime and anywhere, and don't let it wander anymore.
From now on, we need to protect our homes and not litter. When you're at school or somewhere, if you throw your garbage on the floor, don't you feel ashamed and guilty when someone picks it up? Maybe some students don't care, but when you do, it's already too late.
So, we can't hurt our homes anymore, and that's just a small example. Let's think about how many people are in this home, if everyone is throwing garbage, then this earth will become a world of garbage. In fact, it is not only garbage pollution, but also air pollution.
The environment is the place where we produce and live, and environmental problems are the conditions that human beings approve of in the unreasonable development and utilization of resources. It destroys our homes, our present and our future. Therefore, it is our bounden duty to protect the environment and protect the home on which we human beings depend.
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The wind and the moon flow.
Time has taken the same steps, walking unhurriedly, through spring, autumn, winter and summer, and through a month of cloudy and sunny days. Looking back suddenly, the days that have passed away are like a shaking kaleidoscope, inadvertently shaking out an impersonable pattern, and the gathering and dispersion and joys and sorrows are out of print. So I knew that youth was a one-way bus, and there was no post station to return.
The morning bell and dusk drum urge me to raise the sail of the voyage, but my heart is like a leaf nostalgic for the old branch, hesitating in the wind of yesterday, and it is difficult to start from me. I also know that I shouldn't delay the trip, but I can't get rid of the fetters of emotion, I can't seal everything I have in the castle of memory, I lock my birthday tightly, walk through the sunset and the moon every day, as if standing in a clear river, the clear river is the life I have and only have once, but I am standing in the water too often, let the water upstream flow through me and then become the water downstream, let the future flow through my present becomes the past, but I lose today and tomorrow because I am too obsessed with yesterday, So there was nothing.
I often imagine what kind of state of mind it would be for me to sit in yesterday's memories with snowflakes on my head and chew on the stories hidden in every ravine on my face when Chunhua and Qiushi have become history! should have understood a lot and believed very little, but he was still confused by the joke of "the wolf is coming" again and again; It should be a fairy tale that is more in love with spring than winter, but is still nostalgic for the "snow child". The distance traveled seems to be a circle, and after a long journey, it returns to the starting point.
So a lot of times it's doing the same thing, which is looking for a goal.
I once meditated in the darkness, and finally deciphered that the simplest grass withered grass Rong is a kind of mystery, which is the intuitive teaching aid of life: flowers can only be red once, and grass can only be green for a year. The deceased is like this, like the smoke of the past.
It has drifted away with the monsoon, so why bother to pursue and reminisce. The train of youth carries countless passengers, and no one can predict what will happen along the way, and no one can return to the starting point of their own boarding. Since I have no choice, let me crush the frustration and wishful thinking I once had on the rails of time, and then push open the doors and windows, bask in the fresh air and sunshine, and welcome a new journey.
Because I already know that youth is a one-way bus, and there is no return and no post station.
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