Seeking the feelings of reciting China's classical poems.

Poetry is fragrant, elegant and colorful dream. In the dream, there are lingering rain and fog on Liuhua Bridge, distant dusk on the long river of the desert, lofty sentiments of flying clouds and strong winds, and faint thoughts of arranging flowers by the candle in the west window ... Once upon a time, I sat alone by the corner window of a small room, holding a volume of poetry, and integrated myself into Song Yuli in tang style thousands of years ago, watching bloom flowers fall and clouds disperse. Once upon a time, I let my thoughts fly to the junction of water and sky in the south of the Yangtze River, listening to the fishing boat singing late, and wondering if the midnight bell has reached the passenger ship. Once upon a time, I read Acacia in the drizzle, and I was disappointed with Yang Liuan Xiaofeng and the faint guzheng. Once upon a time, I wanted to go out and face it with a smile, singing whether our generation is Artemisia capillaris ... reading poetry is more fragrant like tea, or brewing more wine like wine. This is a supreme spiritual enjoyment ... seeing flowers in spring, listening to cicadas in summer, blowing autumn moon in summer and drinking winter frost are the elegant and quiet ideals pursued by Gao Fei's retreat. Since they can't help the world at the same time, they choose loneliness. Seeing Nanshan leisurely, "Yuanmingju wine is both idle and sparse." In the picturesque scenery of "peach is full of rain, willow green is more smoky", the only quiet king Mosuo just wants to put a leaf on the boat. I will go to the water to stop me, and then sit and watch Master Meng, who is walking on clouds and your fame rising to the sky, so charming that he forgets the scientific research of drinking. It is really "the importance of giving up hats and chariots in rosy youth." The years of Mrs. Mei's crane have flowed through the hearts of many literati ... Tao Qian is idle, Wang Wei is quiet, Meng Haoran is wild and noble, and Lin Hejing is noble. Their poems shine brilliantly in their works and stick to their free spiritual homeland. They have the courage to pursue, tragic feelings. To this end, whip and say. The clanking iron language of "national disaster is at the head, and death is sudden" crosses time and space and resounds through the sky; "I was born useful, spinning 1000 pieces of silver, all back" lofty ambition! Will always scare you in one place and let you shoot eucalyptus; There are thousands of spacious buildings in Qian Qian, and all the poor people in the world are happy. How can such feelings not make people feel deeply? Such feelings have changed the weakness of literati and poets. Without romantic feelings, they have built the backbone of the nation with iron bones. How can we not let people respect their feelings! Poetry is to paint landscapes, express emotions, express aspirations and express reason. Just after enjoying the beautiful scenery of the desert, I suddenly felt a sense of melancholy that "how many things happened in Penglai, looking back in vain, is full of gloom"; Just sad and helpless, the years are fleeting, and in the blink of an eye, I am inspired by and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea's lofty aspirations; Just now, I wandered in the proud language of "90,000 Li Fengpeng is in the right place", and suddenly pondered the profound philosophy of "Why is the canal so clear that it has flowing water at its source". Poetry is full of words when it is silent, and endless when it is exhausted. "Chen Qiang was lucky enough to travel all over Chen Shan. For whom?" He asked, but didn't answer, giving you a sad heart. But it is said that the weather is cool and it is a good autumn. He said he was not worried, but it made people feel sad everywhere. This time, it is not a "sad" word. Read the poem, read the silence behind his words, and you will really understand this poem. Reading poetry is like walking on a shady road. The beautiful scenery on your face is often dazzling and addictive. When you face the moon and fall off the cliff, you can't help dancing. Holding a glass of moonlight and touching a pulse of poetry, the night is beautiful.