Red classic prose recitation 6 Red classic American essays 2 minutes recitation

Why is it said that recitation is a kind of re-creation.

This? It is because the recitation language is full of and condenses the deep taste, unique feelings, skilled skills, and vocal charm of the reciter. Below I have compiled the recitation of classic poems in red for your reference.

Commemoration of the Xinhai Revolution.

I once remembered that year, a gunshot rang out, and since then a new history has been opened.

At the end of this time, there was endless darkness, a glimmer of spark, gradually becoming brighter.

The corridor of history will always bring us many inspirations, but they will never be erased.

Our today is exchanged for their yesterday, and our smiling faces are mixed with the blood and tears of our ancestors.

Thinking of this history, we are high-spirited, and looking back on the past is our new beginning.

Please don't forget, our forefathers, please don't forget, their struggles.

The Xinhai Revolution, the moment of fluorescent light, was the beginning of the life course of New China.

Words Revolution. Xinhai Nian is gone, and the bullies of the Ming and Qing dynasties are gone.

Liberated, democracy, republican, come, life.

This is just the beginning;

There are, thoughts, customs, farewell, everything.

Only then did China become China, and only then did China recover China.

Whether from this moment on, people are people, he said, shake hands, bow, go, kneel, long live.

Yes, yes, there is hope in the East, I think yes, yes.

The shame of the snow barbarian, no, no, no, no, no, it seems that this is just, just the beginning, it will revitalize my Hua, familiar with the righteousness of the three peoples, who expected that there would be a thief usurping and losing righteousness, can you still remember, the banner of righteousness that year, raised.

With the wooden boats on the water of Nanhu Lake, they carried the loess and ushered in the sickle and hammer.

It's begun, it's begun.

Do you still want to listen, listen to the mountains of rhododendrons, you, or the same you, me, still iron-boned me.

The promised silent earth is full of warehouses, and the fragrance of rice is smoked.

The belief in the Long March is getting higher and higher, and the suffering is getting shorter.

Sonorous. The footsteps of tens of thousands of mountains have collectively woken up.

The gold of the sun shimmered in the shadows of the trek.

The verdant green of the uniform contains endless power.

The deep sockets of the feet are the flowers of the revolution.

25,000 miles is more than just a road.

It was a sharp knife that cut through the enemy's machinations and tricks.

25,000 miles away from grief and despair.

Out of the strong, brave, optimistic, ignited.

9.6 million square kilometers.

of light. At this moment, I think more about the road that the Red Army has traveled again.

Look at the blue sky, white clouds, snow-capped mountains, and touch those who have been nurtured.

Hunger. I want to sit in the middle of the mountains.

Sitting on a slightly painful wound in hard years.

Turned into a drop of blood, no! Transform into a brilliant flower.

I want to brush off the dust of history and touch that path.

It's like touching a string of pearls of memory.