China Naming Network - Naming consultation - Who are the authors who are particularly good at writing ancient styles?

Who are the authors who are particularly good at writing ancient styles?

It's windy Look at another spring she wrote.

To the sky kingdom copied her book, which is fluent in writing and natural in plot.

How to write an antique composition? The key is to read more.

You can read some novels with antique themes. If you want to use borrowed poems, you can also read more poems.

And as far as antiques are concerned, there are different types.

Some sentences are exquisite and classic.

Some sentences are also very popular, but the numbers of dynasties are different from those of modern times.

If it is environmental description, it is mainly to distinguish indoor description from modern description.

Or people's clothes.

But these are actually details.

What theme do you write? Antique doesn't seem to be suitable for writing a composition.

It's easy to go to extremes, either high or low.

Go to Jiujiu. Com, where there are many broken bridges and snow-broken moon, cool breeze and bright moon, fragrant red remnant, cold time, the face that the years quietly pass by, and the sadness in a line of poems. I laugh hard, laugh hard.

I savor the fallen flowers, and the rustling autumn wound gently caresses the midnight song of the wind chimes! A soothing piano sound rings, and whoever forgets his appearance in his words becomes the frost of vicissitudes.

My heart is hidden.

The ends of the earth are all over the swing.

In the small courtyard, the flower diameter is fragrant. They say you are thinner than Huanghua, leaving me lonely. The strings were broken all night, accompanied by your melody, butterflies danced on the blue shirt of the bamboo garden, snow stained your clothes, willows swayed on the moon, and we forgot each other. At dusk, I was entrusted to the wings of a crow. Your hometown is Cang Sang, the Jiangnan teenager in my dream.

Who hides the bright moon and hangs it on your willow branches at dusk, south of the Yangtze River, they all say not to go to the south of the Yangtze River, the rainy lane of teenagers, you alone, the feeling of fingers trembling under the drizzle of paper umbrellas, whose shadow flows through the closed window, the fragrance of white walls and green tiles, the legend of thousands of years, your talents are hesitant for my beauty, the face of water and gas waves, and the smoke covers your turning wound and tears.

Where are you going? I am in the middle of the water, and there is no frost under the bright moon. On the lake of the Twenty-four Bridge, the original painting and pipa sound are eternal chapters of the years, the night dew moistens the white clothes fluttering, and the fragrance of your hair dyes my eternal desire. The elegant and clear dress, bright eyes and light dancing are the most beautiful appearance in my dream.

I want to turn to Wan Li next to Jiuqing Mountain, find your sunset glow in the evening, and watch in the distance. The withered strings ring into wounds and wrap around my heart, sighing. The ancient city road, barren hills and flowers are in full bloom, and your azaleas are blooming on my left chest. How long have you been silent, looking around? You're gone, that's the paradise I'm looking for.

I dare not guess the melancholy of your clear sky, so I have to think hard, close my unwilling eyes and open my eyes to whom I will be crazy. My sadness opens in the wilderness of memory, your country is the place I look forward to, and my vision is the warm sunshine in spring, which turns into a wisp of incense, babbles in the wind, flows through Xiao Yi and can't be found anymore.

The faint starry sky, the misty sky, your pear blossom white, the frost dyed on my head, the vicissitudes of my temples, the extravagant hopes of this life, all kinds of attachments and sorrows turn into a net in my corner of my eye, waiting for a fish to swim away.

Time flies, for whom will my song be sung? Holding the yellow in my memory, you said that red-violet's heart is only the last fragrance at the fingertips.

I can't find the gentlest time in the south of the Yangtze River. I lock you in the garden and sing softly. Orchids are everywhere. I touch someone's long-lost tears. A drop of rain drenches my afterlife habitat, waiting for you to fall into poetic hesitation, such as fog, and finally become your gentle face, wandering against my youth.

Broken bridge, residual snow, you quietly river without a boat, my wind rustling, whose thoughts fall on the horseshoe, the blue man has left the south of the Yangtze River. I am embedded in the iron, who is playing the sword, singing the frivolous teenager, the night when there are few stars in the moon, and your shadow and dance are messy. I still remember the full moon in the Mid-Autumn Festival that year. Your beauty fascinated me so much.

You smile, wading in the water reflects the cold, and you are as white as a lotus. If you are good at water sports, you will be exhausted. Your flowers will make my lonely garden, pavilions sing late, and the world will be heartbroken. I can only look forward to my life attachment all the way.

In fishing songs, the lotus blooms late and the plum rains are silent.

Broken bridge and falling snow, like flowing water, your dusk buried the warmth of my dawn, so I relaxed you and looked at the pavilion, and the east wind thinned your face.

A falling rain will overcome countless lovesickness.

How many cycles? I can't forget yesterday's sadness. On my other shore, who is waiting for a bowl of bitterness cooked by Meng Po?

I forget your face in this life, and meet you in the afterlife, only stopping at the moment when I pass by ... endless years, lonely galaxy, ethereal prophecy, the legendary inch of loess, cover up the beauty, and the person who buried the flowers also buried himself in the fallen flowers. You walked in a hurry, and your unforgettable face was vaguely in your dream, with flowers blooming all over the sky and Leng Yue filar silk.

That night, I had a long dream and slept well. When I wake up, the deep courtyard is full of yellow flowers, and the petals are full of thoughts about you. Time flies, I put on your bright red clothes to commemorate me.

It seems like a thousand years have passed overnight, but ... you are still not with me ... The flowers are silent, people are as light as chrysanthemums, and Leng Yan is quietly blooming in the corner of the world of mortals. If new tea comes after rain, it is like a thousand-year-old agarwood.

All over the mountains, I live alone on the balcony, with a cup of tea, a piano, a propaganda and a pile of Kun.

Stay away from the bright moon and still taste the vicissitudes of life.

I also know that time flies like water, and I sigh that my fingertips are transparent. Only this sandy world, who can see through?

Borrow half a silk spring scenery, change the brow to be thin and cool for a lifetime. As Daiyu said, if you want to play the piano, you must choose a quiet room, Gaozhai.

The moon corridor on the top of the mountain is light, burning incense and sitting quietly.

Piano dancing, light tea fragrance, a long finger, plum light cloud light.

Get a quiet peach blossom garden, stay away from worldly troubles, step on the snowy moon, make tea and listen to the flute.

Laughing about the joys and sorrows of the Millennium, wearing a ring under the moon, carrying many old dreams of the former Tang Dynasty, guqin qingquan, crossing for several years.

Plum blossoms are in the valley, but they are not fragrant because no one appreciates them. When the moon passes through the cold pond, they are not desolate because of loneliness.

If the heart is as light as the morning mist, it will be like jasper dew, listening to the source and falling.

The bright moon lasts only because the heart does not increase or decrease.

Dream in the spring and autumn, purple bamboo swaying, plum string ethereal around the window lattice.

Xiangmei was finally penetrated by ice and turned into this kind of sand fragrance, flowing through clear water, clear sky and red dust.

Natural hand caresses the piano, and the frost and cold on the moon clear the dust.

Deep pools are filled with water, and the stone moss is slippery, and the fire is scattered and the fragrance remains for another spring.

Draw the outline of clouds and smoke, which makes me intoxicated, touch the sunset, a pot of wine, drunk for a long time; A fountain pen, a book, a lonely time.

Years, in the next game of chess, wrestling, and hand-to-hand combat, talk about ups and downs and wait for everything to be finalized.

Between heaven and earth, under the red dust, every life is disappearing, ...

This is my 800-word antique composition. I graduated from Liao Hua No.3 Primary School and went to middle school. I study in Class 7, Grade 7, Liao Hua No.2 Middle School. This is my 800-word composition.

When I started school, I met new teachers and classmates, which made me feel brand-new and at the same time I felt inexplicably unhappy.

I don't know the classmates and teachers in one class, which makes me a little stiff.

At the first class meeting, the teacher asked us to introduce ourselves. According to the ranking order of the senior high school entrance examination results, the teacher called my name first.

I thought about it and said to everyone, "Hello, classmates.

My name is Cui Zhijing. My name was given by my grandfather, which means that I grew up happily in an environment full of fragrance.

However, I don't understand my name this way. I think the homonym of "endless learning" and "endless learning" means that I will struggle endlessly in the endless sea of learning.

When I was in primary school, some students heard my name and thought I would be poor at school. I was lying in a superior and good environment and made no progress. I wrote an 800-word composition, "This is my 800-word composition" (//... I kept at it, and only attended a technical secondary school in Liao Hua.

I'll think about it and let you know.

I'm still strong, which makes me feel brand-new.

I remember my grandfather told me that I was always in the top few in primary school, which made me a little stiff and ranked according to the results of the senior high school entrance examination, especially table tennis! In painting art, the art teacher said that I am a talented person with great potential, and I can play table tennis.

student

In primary school, basketball, this is me. I can't forget the hard work when I was studying. The "endless learning" in Knowing the Classics and Endless Learning is what I am learning.

I made up my mind. Unjs, at the same time I have a strange unhappiness. Teachers and classmates see that I didn't go to college. They all regret not studying hard when they were children.

However, the moral of "target =" _ blank" > is that I grew up happily in an environment full of fragrance, and I didn't progress in a superior and good environment. I learned it from my teacher when I was young.

A classmate in the class.

Outgoing and introverted, chatting with familiar people.

But in fact, I study very well.

My appearance has no features and sketches. I am struggling: "classmates, it means that I will struggle endlessly in the boundless sea of learning." I want to be strong, don't believe it.

At the first class meeting, the teacher asked us to introduce ourselves and write an 800-word composition "This is my 800-word composition" (

How to write an antique article? I saw some sentences these two days, which should be antique, and I feel better ... The sunset shines in the west, and the distant mountains are like eyebrows.

The woman in the pavilion in the middle of the lake looked at the lake and put the bamboo flute close to her lips.

"Hoo-"the flute sounded long and tactfully, which attracted the homing birds to stop on the pavilion.

This woman is wearing an apricot tulle skirt and a blue ribbon.

A hairpin is inserted obliquely in the bun, and the eyes are like running water. It looks like a jade carving, even the hibiscus in the lake has degenerated ... this is a dream of mine.

The city is full of more and more modern flavor, and because of the tenacity of reinforced concrete, there is neither graceful romance nor unrestrained drunkenness on the battlefield.

Therefore, there is a group of people who have a kind of obsession and pursuit of ancient style in their bones.

Maybe she is not a beautiful woman with white eyes and teeth, and he is not the son of a talented and charming man.

But still, dreaming a dream full of classical flavor, looking for the graceful or unrestrained you want.

I am one of them.

I am fascinated by the charm of Fengfu poetry, the smoothness of ink lines, the elegance of silk, the realm of Jin Mu silk and bamboo, and the exquisite and crazy pavilions ... As for various and colorful folk arts, I can't extricate myself.

A few friends, like me, like the lingering delicious food in ancient times. Sometimes they are free. It is impossible to drink tea on a sunny afternoon, but they can slowly appreciate the sweetness.

It is also possible to recite a few poems and feel the feelings of the ancients.

"The small building listens to the spring rain all night, and the deep alley sells apricot blossoms." "This star seems to be different from last night, and the wind dew stands for who in the third night." ... I prefer Tang Bohu's "Peach Blossoms Competing for Peach Blossoms to Drink Peach Blossoms" to the secular, and I prefer Li Yishan's whimsy of "Although my body does not have bright phoenix wings, I feel the harmonious heartbeat of the sacred unicorn".

Occasionally, I will make a few limerick poems and share them with my friends to entertain myself.

I don't understand ancient paintings, but I feel that the landscape is beautiful and elegant, the flowers and birds are lifelike, and the characters look like images, not as thick and ethereal as ink paintings in western oil paintings.

The dark meaning of Qi Ming's ancient songs is beyond my description. Let's talk about the top ten classic songs, the flowing mountains and flowing waters, the melodious setting of the wild geese in Pingsha, the tragic ambush on all sides, the vivid question and answer of Yu Qiao, the bitterness of the autumn moon in Han Palace, the clear rhyme of plum blossoms, and the injury of Hu Jian's eighteen beats ... The profound attainments of the ancients in music have to be impressed.

In recent two years, a new pop music style has emerged, and the lyrics are mostly Tang poetry and Song poetry (for example, "Leaving the Pavilion, Swallow, Swallow Day" in a dream in Beijing, the lyrics have been read several times.

Which volume does this book begin with? It is my preface.

If you complain twice, even if you complain, you will cry.

Autumn leaves, falling to the world.

), accompanied by classical instruments such as pipa and erhu. To put it bluntly, it is an antique. After all, it also combines other styles, indicating that it is more soothing than noisy rock and harsh metal.

It's good to listen to it occasionally, but it's still far from our history.

I have been to Beijing once, but I am more fascinated by the Forbidden City and the Summer Palace. Although Suzhou gardens are more beautiful than the symbol of northern imperial power, I think they all embody the Chinese nation's "harmony" thought.

Even when I saw the blue tile wall of a small ancient town, I was happy.

China has a history of thousands of years and numerous splendid cultural heritages. Even if the pace of the modern world is still advancing and living in the city, I want to say: I am crazy about antiques!

How to write antique articles and novels? "My fair lady, a gentleman good Qiu.

"This sentence, which has been told through the ages, made me know the Book of Songs for the first time.

After reading it, I can't help but be attracted by its fresh, elegant, harmonious and mysterious temperament and can't put it down.

"A day of sight, such as Sanqiu xi.

"It is a typical mentality of people in love;" Hold your hand and grow old with your son.

"This is the inner monologue of a soldier who is war-weary and misses his wife.

"Not pregnant, is used as a song mother to patent.

"I miss my parents deeply;" Who says He Guang, a reed hangs it.

"This is a homesick work of the Song people who defended the country;" The so-called Iraqis are on the water side.

"Implicitly expressed the poet's pursuit of some elusive ideal.

"Light he temminick, real dimension I instrument, the arrow of death.

"It vividly shows the determination of a loyal and unyielding woman to defend her love to the death;" Although I went to prison quickly, there was no female slave.

"It's a woman's firm reply to the nobles who forced him to get married.

"Don't cut don't worship, call it also.

"I love my house and my dog, cherish Zhao Bo's bones and have a good government;" People are extremely useless, and work is cool and good.

"It is the poet's broad, lofty and deep worries about the fatuous and corrupt rule.

"Twinkle, I millet without food.

"This is a poem that people can't bear exploitation and oppression, and they can't bear it. They fantasize about going to the promised land.

Wise and quiet are the poet's character, subtle, simple and delicate, and they are the language of poetry. The poet expresses his restless heart in the form of poetry.

The independent pursuit of love, the desire for freedom, the worship of justice ... Every feeling is so strong and so real; Every heart is so kind and pious.

Reading the Book of Songs, we can't see the seclusion, ignorance and conservatism of ancient people. All I see is love, wisdom, nature, hope and sunshine.

All beautiful words, beautiful things, beautiful emotions ... fill every poem.

So harmonious, so persistent, so lofty, so holy, every poem is a beautiful song, every poem is a true story, and every poem has a beautiful and noble soul.

The empire that once dominated the world has turned into a cloud; At that time, Luo's colorful skirts had been scattered into loess ... Today, what really touched my feelings and soul is not a few cultural relics in the museum, but the stories of those immortals.

A fresh and elegant poem tells a touching story.

I seem to have been taken to a distant country, and the history reappears before my eyes: trance, looming, mysterious and far away … I seem to hear voices from ancient times, vague and intermittent, as if telling me something … maybe history, maybe stories, maybe the future, maybe something else.

Love, freedom and justice are the eternal themes of The Book of Songs, and they are also the eternal themes of life.

Close your eyes and listen quietly. You can hear the call from the ancient mind.

Please kneel down! Aesthetic ancient style, European medieval style, classical! ! ! Love friends ... dad's figure is a little fat, and he can also be called burly.

I feel warm and comfortable snuggling in his broad arms.

I once dreamed of lying in his arms forever, but "the deceased is like a husband, and I don't give up day and night", and I gradually bid farewell to his arms with my age.

But I don't know, leaning on his shoulder is also comfortable and warm.

One winter morning, because of something delayed, my father was afraid that I would be late for school and decided to take me to school by motorcycle.

I forgot to bring my helmet because I left in a hurry. Dad rides a little slowly.

"Is it cold?" He asked.

"Not cold.

""If it's not cold, I'll ride faster in case I'm late.

Stand on my shoulder and sit still.

"When I leaned over, I felt a warm current in my heart. I haven't let my father take it for a long time. Once, how familiar that shoulder was: playing games as a child was my "war tide"; At school, it is my "transportation"; When I am sad, it is my "reliance"; When I am happy, it is my "paradise".

I have been lying on that shoulder countless times and whispering in my father's ear; Pulling up and playing pranks with my father countless times; Countless times ... happy memories of childhood come to mind at once, and I feel so excited and happy.

Time flies, whenever I lean on my dad's shoulder, that feeling is the most comfortable.

Lying on his shoulder again, inadvertently, my hand touched my father's face. God, it's so cold! My nose is sour. "Dad, I love you!" A word is like a volcanic eruption, blurted out without preparation and hesitation.

"hmm? What did you say? " "oh! Nothing ... nothing.

"I don't know if it is necessary to repeat it. I think, for my father's love, I still don't need words, but convey it with my heart! The school gate has come into view and the car has stopped. Looking at dad's face flushed with cold, I ... "Finally arrived, riding fast, not freezing you! "! All right, go in! I'm going back.

"I mechanically turned and stepped into the school gate, until at the corner, I stole a look at my father. He was still looking here. When he saw that I had left, he turned around.

Seeing his staggering back, I can't help thinking of the back written by Mr. Zhu Ziqing.

Dad is old, but what he sees from his affectionate eyes is infinite love.

Both of them have a pair of shoulders, thick or strong, weak or single-protected in crowded streets. At first glance, it is a pair of uneven shoulders.

Sentimental poets and far-reaching philosophers have had countless connections with shoulders and given them endless metaphorical meanings.

The spirit of everything seen through the shoulder is no longer the body, but the human soul and greatness! Shoulders are a sign of confidence and courage.

At that time, foreigners shouted arrogantly: "China has no crude oil and wants to import it!" It was the iron man Wang Man Jinxi and his friends who carried the drilling rig in Daqing Oilfield with their shoulders as strong as mountains, inspiring the heroism of the people of China.

People affectionately call this field "the field of competition". Together with his shoulders, Wang Jinxi will always be remembered and recorded in the history of New China.

Shoulder is a sign of fighting spirit.

A person's body can split, his description can wither, but the shoulders of just people, even the blazing hearts beating under them, will never give in.

Li Dazhao fought tenaciously against the enemy with his "iron shoulders" and his will in prison, and was full of frankness and yearning for the cause of * * * until his death.

His iron shoulders inspired many revolutionaries to "shed their blood" and devote themselves to the revolutionary cause.

Aren't the weak and resolute Liu Hezhen Jun and the admirable Five Martyrs of the Left League something we should remember? And Mr. Zhu shouldered the "pole" of Jinggangshan with his own shoulders, lit a prairie fire and turned a new page in modern China.

Shoulder is a symbol of strength.

Solid and generous shoulders often give people a sense of security.

In the battlefield filled with smoke, fearless PLA soldiers jumped into the cold river without hesitation for the victory of the battle and the success of the revolutionary cause, and built a bridge between the people with a statue of shoulders. Although it is not a bridge, it is better than a bridge. Although that shoulder is not a pier, it is ten million times more practical than a pier.

In the recent flood fighting and disaster relief, the PLA carried sandbags on their shoulders to prevent floods, help people and distribute relief supplies.

Where there are their "shoulders", there is people's peace.

This kind of shoulder can not be admired! Shoulder is the foundation, the stepping stone, and the starting point to win the other shore and climb the peak tomorrow.

Newton said that he was just a child playing by the sea, and occasionally picked up one or two shells, so he could see farther because he stepped on the shoulders of his predecessors.

Shoulder is the baby of a new leap and the brewing of the next success.

* * *, the chief architect of the reform, showed us the future of the motherland with his extremely rich shoulders. * * * outlined the blueprint for the "four modernizations" with great foresight, advocated reforms that attracted worldwide attention, creatively put forward the concept of "one country, two systems", and shouldered the heavy responsibility of the times entrusted by one billion people. At his command, China's carriage began to accelerate.

People affectionately called him "Hello, Xiaoping!" Shoulder, really enlightens people, it is like a silent textbook that is better than sound, and it is like an irregular but exciting music.

The horn of the times has sounded, and the spring breeze of reform has swept across China.

We are lucky in every era. Should we also use our shoulders to contribute to the construction of the motherland?

Diligent and earnest, use the shoulders of our 1 1 100 million people to hold up a new round of red sun for the motherland's tomorrow.

"The waves behind the Yangtze River push the waves before", and future generations can remember our "shoulders" and our contributions while remembering our ancestors. Although they can't go down in history, they are also worthy of life, and they can be immortal and stay in their hearts.

Unfold all the broken bridges and snow-the waning moon, the breeze and the bright moon, the fragrance fading away and the red residue, the cold time, quietly flowing through the face of the years, the sadness in a poem, I laughed very hard and laughed very hard.