Traditional Culture Encyclopedia - Traditional stories - Poetry recitation manuscript

Poetry recitation manuscript

1.

The dream of kite

The scene of a dangerous fall,

Fight against the weight of life again and again.

-Fly, fly!

Whose faith is as firm as a bone?

Constant crying purifies the soul.

Climb the windward steps,

The smooth arc gently separates the track of the wind.

Colorful wings, gorgeous, flying dreams suddenly opened.

A kite found its bright position,

Wipe your eyes and see the spring when the grass grows and the warbler flies.

Spring thoughts, red, green and green;

The temptation of spring is gentle and charming.

Are you going to browse the spring or pursue the colorful clouds on the horizon?

The sky is the home of wings.

Cast mottled shadows on the earth,

Raise your eyes higher and higher,

Go deep into the sky and dream.

The old banyan tree by the lake,

Lost the height that you admired in the past;

The house also solidified into a little splash of ink,

Thin and thin.

Embrace the whispering breeze,

You're like a free believer,

Listen devoutly to the whispers of the clouds,

Listen to the motto of the eagle.

Are they messengers from heaven?

Can you trace their sound pulses to Freedom Palace?

The sky is far away because of flying kites.

Kites can't fly freely because they are far away.

Do you think freedom is a height?

In search of freedom,

New heights are conquered by wings again and again,

But more freedom overflowed my back.

Does breaking free from bondage mean that you can find the truth of freedom?

You resolutely broke free from the long fetters,

Like a wild crane with a neck, soaring into the sky.

However, gorgeous only in an instant,

Flying wing died of freedom because of weightlessness.

Oh! I suddenly realized:

Binding is your freedom.

Freedom is just the distance of a line.

Kite, if it falls, it will fall.

Why should I see my shadow in you?

I am a kite,

A kite flying from the countryside to the city,

My mother in my hometown is my concern

Because,

Every wanderer flies a kite by his mother.

2.

Scientific Prose Poetry: Eclipse

As early as hundreds of millions of years ago when the original shouts and gongs and drums began, this legend was interpreted on our beautiful planet. The legend has not disappeared, but the cry is disappearing bit by bit in the development of civilization and science.

Perhaps in the simple hearts of primitive tribes, perhaps in the preserved folk culture, people will light sacrificial bonfires again and again. In the city, people only peep at this strange astronomical landscape through cold lenses. The eclipse will never disappear. What will disappear will be the lost tradition and people's enthusiasm.

Maybe some people don't believe in the natural cycle, but one day, there is the sun, the moon and the stars, which seems irrelevant, but the fact is that it runs in strict accordance with the trajectory. There is no illusion of unexpected encounter, only eternal reincarnation of each other. The tide is rising near, but it is surging far away. The footprint of the moon has changed the ecology on the earth.

The distant sun, the beautiful moon and the familiar earth have been together for hundreds of millions of years in the boundless universe. There is no loneliness and eternity, only movement, chasing in time and space.

Give you my light, my heat and my passion. The care of 150 million miles, the commitment of four billion years, the transmission of the sun, the earth, the moon, light and heat have formed a just and wonderful distance in the vast universe, and countless lives and joys have evolved.

Attract each other in the distance, rotate and revolve in the attraction, rotate to produce orbit, rotate to produce power, and rotate to produce eternal phase.

Eternal pattern, along the cycle of millions of years, the moon's roundest day, the earth covered the moon with its huge figure, the bright moon turned into a bronze disc, and heaven and earth were shrouded in the flavor of myth.

All the glory is completely dim, all the breaths stop instantly, all the moods change, all the mouths open wide, and the fear of losing the moon can make everything desperate.

Excessive sharpness will inevitably lead to natural damage, and the crisis of loss will inevitably be hidden in perfection.

The full moon and bright moonlight in May can turn all life into spirits.

The eclipse in June, the glory has passed, and I only hope to shine again in whose dream.

The moon is still alive after the eclipse, but can it be born after the heart is eroded?

All right, you get extra points ~ ~ ~ ~ ~