Author/Wang
Every rainy day, I put a small chair on it, sit quietly under the eaves, listen to the different sounds of raindrops, watch the rain curtain cover the world, pour a cup of fragrant tea and begin to remember.
Think about the day when overlord committed suicide in Wujiang River. It must have rained. Dense rain fell from the sky, diluting Yu Ji's bright red blood. The rain wet the drum surface, and the depressed drum sound became more and more dull; Rain soaked the flag surface, and the word "Chu" no longer fluttered with the wind; The rain disturbed the line of sight, and the sharp blade drew an enchanting blood line. The overlord went to find a concubine with a smile, and the high-impedance put down the world. But presumably Gaozu also praised the bravery of overlord and concubine's infatuation.
Think about the day when Cao Zhi became a poem in seven steps. God must cry for him. He doesn't intend to compete for power and interests. What does it matter who is on his throne? He just wants to drink happily every day and sing when he is drunk. The idle life of the scribes is what he wants. But who would have thought that his brother, a female compatriot, persecuted himself so much? When he walked in front of the hall step by step, he had to hide his grief deeply: "We were born from the same root, so why should we fry each other!" "
Imagine the night of Du Fu's thatched cottage in autumn. There are bound to be gusts of wind accompanied by rain. The strong wind lifted the thatch off the top of the hut, and the rain entered the house from the roof that was no longer tight. He sighed deeply outside the house, but not for himself, but for people all over the world. I still have a hut to shelter from the wind and rain, but I don't know how many people are homeless! The prosperity of Zhenguan is gone forever, but it is the people who are displaced and suffer. Rain mixed with tears added another kind of vicissitudes to his weather-beaten face.
Think about the day when Li Yu was granted death, the sky must be full of haze. If it is unfair, it will sound. What was he thinking when he picked up the pigeon wine and gulped it down? Are you ashamed that your ancestors failed to save your country, or are you ashamed of your two wives? Is it the lament of the king who perished, or the helplessness of the sorrowful poet? He doesn't want to endure the lonely life in prison any more: those past lives are gone forever and can only be relived in his dreams. "I don't know the dream guest, I am greedy." The moment the cup fell to the ground, he heard a faint sigh from heaven.
Think about the day when Li Qingzhao leaned against the window alone, and the rain knocked off the leaves of the garden. She is still recalling the happy scene of sitting by the window with her husband many years ago. Even if it rained at that time, it was sweet. But now, at the same time, the same place, the same scene, the same thing, they are no longer the same people. Things are much transformed, clear autumn cold rain, lonely phoenix tree, who can this tear flow to? It's getting late, and the cold wind is getting tighter and tighter. She got up silently and closed the window. The sad scene stood through the window, but the dripping rain was even more heartbreaking. Abandoned gardens and abandoned houses, "What a sad word this time?"
When it rains, put a small chair on it, sit under the eaves, listen to the rain, look at the rain curtain, pour a cup of fragrant tea and begin to remember.
No.1 Middle School in Jixian County, Linfen City, Shanxi Province1Class 98
Instructor: Wang Lan