"Shuxiang Zhaotong"
In order to thoroughly implement General Secretary Xi Jinping's important exposition on advocating more reading and building a bookish society, conscientiously implement the important deployment of "promoting the integration of urban and rural public cultural service system, innovating and implementing cultural projects to benefit the people, and advocating reading for the whole people" put forward in the government work report, further promote the in-depth development of the city's national restraint work, continue to promote the construction of 'Shuxiang Zhaotong', and combine the work requirements of creating a "national civilized city" and a "national sanitary city". After the study of the Publicity Department of the Municipal Party Committee, it was decided to carry out the 2022 "Book Fragrance Zhaotong" national reading activity throughout the city through a combination of online and offline methods.
The readers of this issue of "Shuxiang Zhaotong" column are Sha Feng, Wang Chaojuan, Zhao Dengfei, Wen Yan, and Zhou Yaxin, who will bring us a wonderful reading program.
About the Reader
Read by all, books are fragrant! Hello listeners and friends of Zhaotong TV, dear book friends! I am Sha Feng, the reader, and today I want to read Zhu Ziqing's prose ----- "Back Shadow" for you, and I will read "Back Shadow" for you.
"Back Shadow"
Author: Zhu Ziqing
Reader: Sha Feng
I haven't seen my father for more than two years, and the last thing I can forget is his back. That winter, my grandmother died, and my father's messenger was also handed over, and it was a day of misfortune, so I traveled from Beijing to Xuzhou, planning to follow my father home for funeral. When I went to Xuzhou to see my father, I saw things in the courtyard, and I thought of my grandmother, and I couldn't help but shed tears. The father said, "This is the case, don't be sad, it's good that there is no way out!" ”
When he returned home to sell the canon, his father repaid the deficit and borrowed money for the funeral. These days, the family is very bleak, half for the funeral, half for the father's leisure. After the funeral, my father wanted to go to Nanjing to seek trouble, and I also wanted to go back to Beijing to study, so we went together.
When I arrived in Nanjing, a friend made an appointment to go for a walk and stayed for a day; the next morning, I had to cross the river to Pukou and get on the car to go north in the afternoon. Because my father was busy, he had already said that he would not send me, so he asked a well-known tea room in the hotel to accompany me. He repeatedly instructed the tea room, very carefully. But he was finally uneasy, afraid that the tea room would not be proper; he hesitated for a while. In fact, I was twenty years old, and I had already traveled to and from Beijing two or three times, so it didn't matter much. He hesitated for a moment, and finally decided to send me myself. I advised him two or three times not to go; he simply said, "It doesn't matter, they're not going well!" ”
We crossed the river and entered the station. I bought tickets and he was busy taking care of his luggage. There was too much luggage, and I had to tip the porter to get past. He was busy negotiating prices with them again. I was really too smart at that time, and I always felt that he was not very beautiful in his speech, and he had to interject himself. But he finally made up the price; he sent me to the car. He picked out for me a chair by the car door; I laid out the purple coat he had made for me and sat down. He told me to be careful on the road, to be alert at night, and not to get cold. He also asked the tea house to take good care of me. I laughed at his pedantry in my heart; they only recognized the money, and entrusted them with a white trust! And can't a person of my age take care of myself? Alas, I think about it now, it was so clever then!
I said, "Daddy, you go." He looked out of the car and said, "I'll buy some oranges to go." You're here, don't move around. "I saw that there were a few customers waiting outside the fence of the platform over there. To get to the platform over there, you have to cross the railway, you have to jump down and climb up. My father was a fat man, so it was naturally more troublesome to walk over. I was going to go, but he refused, so he had to let him go. I saw him wearing a small black cloth hat, a black cloth coat, and a dark green cloth cotton robe, waddling to the side of the railway, slowly leaning down, it was not too difficult. But he crossed the railway track, and it was not easy to climb the platform over there. He climbed up with both hands and shrank his feet upwards; his fat body leaned slightly to the left, showing the appearance of effort. Then I saw his back, and my tears quickly flowed down. I quickly wiped away my tears, afraid that he would see it, and that others would see it. When I looked out again, he had already hugged the vermilion orange and looked back. When crossing the railway, he first scattered the oranges on the ground, slowly climbed down, and then picked up the oranges and walked. When I got to this side, I hurried to pick him up. He and I walked to the car and put the orange strands on my fur coat. So he threw himself against the dirt on his clothes, and as if he were very relaxed, he said after a while, "I'm gone; I'll write over there!" I watched him walk out. He took a few steps, looked back at me, and said, "Go inside, there's no one inside." "When his back blended into the people who came and went, and I couldn't find it anymore, I came in and sat down, and my tears came again.
In recent years, my father and I have been traveling from place to place, and the situation in the family is worse than a day. He went out to earn a living as a teenager, single-handedly supported, and did many great things. That old world is so decadent! He was shocked and sad, and naturally could not help himself. In the middle, it is natural to be outside; family trifles often touch his anger. He treated me differently. But after not seeing me for the past two years, he finally forgot my badness, just thinking about me, thinking about my son. After I came north, he wrote me a letter, in which he said, "I am in good health, but the pain in my arms is at stake, and I am holding up a pen, and there are many inconveniences, and the period of about a big departure is not far away." "When I read this, in the crystal tears, I saw the back of the fat, green cotton robe and black cloth coat. alas! I don't know when I'll see him again!"
Reading for all, books are fragrant! Hello listeners and book lovers of Zhaotong Radio and Television Station! I am Wang Chaojuan, a reader of the Qiaojia County Discipline Inspection Commission. Today, what I want to recommend and read for you is Tie Ning, chairman of the China Writers Association, "To Be an Apprentice in Life".
"In the vast universe, if life is like a green bamboo, with my life that is not young, I am still willing to be the one carrying the bag, and work hard to become an apprentice in life." This is the self-warning of Ms. Tie Ning, the president of the "not young" Chinese Writers Association, in her self-written essay "To Be an Apprentice in Life", and it is also her earnest admonition to thousands of young people who are flourishing. Life is cramped, the heavens and the earth are broad, seize the time, study hard, always with a humility, a persistence, we can have a calm calm and profound ease at the end of life. Let's share with you "To be an apprentice in life".
"Apprenticeship in Life"
Author: Tie Ning
Reader: Wang Chaojuan, a reader of the Discipline Inspection Commission of Qiaojia County
Thirty years ago, I heard a friend talk about his old peasant father. This old father drove ox carts and carriages all his life, and never took a car or a train. Later, the son, who had finished college in the city and found a job, decided to ask his father to take a train and told him to take the express train. The father knew that the original train was still fast and slow, so he asked his son whether the fast ticket was cheap or the slow ticket was cheap. The son replied, of course, slow tickets are cheap. The father said in amazement, how can it be cheaper to sit on a slow train for a long time? At that time, while listening to our friends, we laughed and laughed at the innocence of the old father.
Three years ago in Singapore, I read a story about running. A young man and an old man run in the park in the early morning. The young are healthy and lively, and the elderly are thin and sluggish. The young man, who had been running behind the old man, quickly rushed to the front of the old man. With a sense of superiority, he turned back and sighed, "Cough, you old people, you can't run fast." The old man was not angry, and as he ran, he said to the youth who had surpassed him: "Young man, what is in front of you?" The youth said, "It's the road." The old man asked, "What about the front of the road?" The youth said, "There is also a bridge." The old man said, "What about the front of the bridge?" The youth said, "It's a grove of trees." The old man asked, "What about the front of the woods?" The youth said, "Maybe it's the mountain." The old man asked, "What about the front of the mountain?" The young man said, "I can't see it, I'm afraid it's the end of my life, right?" The old man said, "Then what are you doing running so fast?" "I was shocked and felt a desolate wisdom.
More than three months ago, I walked into a sea of bamboo in the mountains of Jiangnan and asked the mountain people to teach me to recognize Hsinchu old bamboo. You know, only bamboo grows fastest in the world. It is said that a primary school student came home from school, hung his school bag on a bamboo tree, sat in the bamboo forest to write his homework, and could not reach the school bag after writing his homework. It's so playful! I felt as if I were seeing a Hsinchu tree carrying a school bag leaping into the sky to go to heaven to go to school.
Today, we live in a sophisticated fast-track era. I suddenly remembered my friend's old peasant father. When the young us laughed at his innocence, how could he have realized that slow is expensive, like the old man who jogged in the park. But when I think of the story of the run, I don't want to blame the young man with a sense of superiority. If youth is used to splurge, he does have the capital to run fast.
Young people who don't even dare to run fast have wasted their youth? So my eyes kept flashing in front of the emerald green bamboo tree carrying a school bag. Its speed frightens me, but the way it carries its school bag makes me laugh: the bamboo carrying the bag is not so calculating after all, it is going to school, it is going to apprentice in life.
To be an apprentice in life reminds me of a film I saw a long time ago starring Chaplin, "Stage Career", in which Chaplin played a comedian named Caviro. I remember a quote from this movie: when Caviro finally won the audience's enthusiastic applause with his exquisite skills, his girlfriend excitedly told him that his performance made the actors on the same stage become fans. To this, Cafilo replied solemnly: "No, maybe we are all still fans, to really have some achievements in art, life is too short." ”
Caviro's humility and "school" bamboo made me feel the hardships of art and the cramps of life. I write not so much to tell the reader something, but to ask for life from literature. Art and writing can fill our spirits and slow down our lives. In the vast universe, if life is like a green bamboo, with my life that is not young, I am still willing to be the one carrying the school bag, and work hard to become an apprentice in life.
Reading for all, books are fragrant! Zhaotong Radio and Television Station listeners, dear book friends, I am Qiaojia County Discipline Inspection Commission Supervision Committee reader Wang Chaojuan, (a piece of creative cultural and creative health related initiatives, slogans, within 30 seconds), if you like my reading, please pay attention to the "Zhaotong Radio and Television Station" public number, at the end of this month for me to vote for a valuable vote, thank you
Reading for all, books are fragrant! Hello listeners and book lovers of Zhaotong Radio and Television Station! I am Zhao Dengfei, a reader from Qiaojia County No. 3 Middle School, and today I want to read Xu Lu's "Winter Orchard" to you. Let me read "The Orchard of Winter" to you.
"The Orchard of Winter"
Author: Xu Lu
Reader: Zhao Dengfei, Qiaojia County No. 3 Middle School
Reading for all, books are fragrant! Hello listeners and book lovers of Zhaotong Radio and Television Station! I am Wen Yan, a reader of the Propaganda Department of Qiaojia County, and today, what I want to recommend and read for you is "Wumeng Mountain Moon".
"Umeng Mountain Moon"
Read aloud: Wen Yan
Umeng Mountain Moon, neither yellow nor white, is the leaves smoked, bud valley wine soaked.
The moon of Umeng Mountain, the night rises the hometown, the past rises... A silver-plated mountain road, a memory of twists and turns. An old pine cone fell into a deep pool and shattered the bright moon that belonged to me (the undead monkeys in the mountains are still being salvaged). The white wings of the moon hatch many white dreams of the mountains, and what about the little girl who loves to tilt her head and bite the corner of her waist and squint her eyes at me? In autumn, the trees are covered with a golden moon. Alas, a missed season.
A path that divides a combination, a painful cut, is always a less fulfilling life.
The moonlight dissolved sweet and bitter memories. The moonlight is the innocence and the traces of the heart, the joy of the threshing ground, the frolicking in the mountains.
That night, I really melted into the mountains with the moonlight. It was the most beautiful moonlight I can remember. On the ground, moonlight silver shook like mottles. The squirrel with its head raised on the branches, its small eyes shining with sapphire light. There is a transparent melody in the valley, the mountains are quiet moon rhymes, and even the moving mountain songs have been beaten into a thin moonlight on the bluestone slab. The wind was light, and the moonlight gently swayed in a transparent circle on the blades of grass; the moonlight was as intoxicating as the gaze, and the valley carved out by the moonlight was quiet. Moonlight dissolves, everything is pure, everything is transparent, including mountains and forests and life. With a "poof", a night bird flew out, and there was a wisp of black poetry in this white mood. However, this wisp of black imagery finally melted into the boundless white moonlight. In this watery moonlight, it gives people a feeling of melting, and worries and bitterness are evaporated in the moonlight. In such an environment, man has a kind of disappearing freedom, a existence without burden, and the spirit is given maximum freedom and relaxation. It is both illusory and real, and man and nature have reached a kind of transcendence and fusion. Mount Umun is no longer another, non-self existence, but in this valley that is neither empty nor empty, I am the moonlight.
Moonlight is the thin wing of my dreams, and what a wonderful moonlight I once enjoyed. However, the Umeng Mountain Moon gently woke up my dream, the moonlight illuminated my heart, an inexplicable pain in my heart, and everything was still so far away...
The moonlight was a hope I could not hold on to, and I was annoyed by the moonlight. Don't make much effort, the silver plate in front of the window fell to the other side of the mountain, and the acacia that could not be continued could not be continued. Moonlight is wings and not wings, and the road, which turned out to be a kind of distance.
Moonlight dissolves the pain of life. Drinking, I also drink the moonlight.
The moon is the shadow of the sun, and the memory is the shadow of yesterday. The memory holds yesterday half to death! The soul always echoes the trembling song "Moonlight", and the film of time seals many past events.
Umon Mountain Moon, a kind of cold burning. Wumeng Mountain Moon is the hometown where I come and go far and near, it is the arduous late curtain on the mountain road, the wet eyebrow gaze on the window of the cow rib, the insomnia of the fire pond burning red, the heart rhythm of the big three strings, the lonely sitting alone in the small hut... It was cut out of a shiny knife, and it was a bloody heart.
The moonlight flowed in the mountain stream, flowing into a thin nostalgia.
Umon Mountain Moon is nothing like, and everything is like everything. It is a mirror that my mother left me that cannot be too bright. I often saw her old man wiping tears from her eyes in the mirror.
Reading for all, books are fragrant! Hello listeners and book lovers of Zhaotong Radio and Television Station! I am Zhou Yaxin, a reader at Xinhua Primary School in Qiaojia County. Today, what I want to recommend and read for you are three articles about maternal love, namely the Indian writer Tagore's "Golden Flower", the Chinese poet and children's literature writer Bingxin's "Paper Boat" Recommendation Reason There is a kind of love that makes us cry; there is always a person who silently supports us; there is always a kind of love that makes us cry. This person is the mother, and this love is the mother's love. Often, we are touched by the selflessness of "spring silkworms to the end of the dead silk" and the dedication of "wax torch into gray tears and drying up". But there is no kind of selflessness or devotion in the world that can be compared to maternal love. Even the most ruthless and hard-hearted people can experience the mother's love to give them spiritual comfort and emotional care.
I'm going to share it with you and hope you enjoy my reading.
Golden Flower and Paper Boat
Tagore Ice Heart
Readers: Zhou Yaxin, Xinhua Primary School, Qiaojia County
Golden Flower
If I were to become a golden flower, growing on the tall branches of a tree for fun, laughing and giggling in the air, and dancing on new leaves, Mom, would you know me?
If you shout, "Son, where are you?" I laughed secretly there, but there was no sound.
I'm going to quietly open the petals and watch you work.
When you bathe, with your wet hair draped over your shoulders, through the shade of the golden flowers, and walk to the small courtyard where you pray, you will smell the flowers, but you will not know that the fragrance comes from me.
When you've had lunch and sat down at the window and read the Ramayana, and the shadow of the tree falls on your hair and your lap, I'm going to cast my little shadow on your page, right where you're reading.
But would you guess that this is your child's little shadow?
When you take the lamp to the cowshed at dusk, I will suddenly fall to the ground again, and become your child again, please tell me the story.
"Where have you been, you bad boy?"
"I won't tell you, Mom." That's what you and I were going to say at that time.
"Paper Boat"
I never gave up a piece of paper,
Always keep it — keep it
Stacked into tiny boats,
Thrown from the boat into the sea.
Some were blown into the windows of the boat by the wind,
Some were wet by the waves and stained on the bow of the ship.
I am still not discouraged every day,
I always want one to flow to where I want it to go.
Mother, if you see a very small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason.
This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes,
Thousands of waters and mountains, ask it to carry her love
And sorrow returns.
Reading for all, books are fragrant! Zhaotong Radio and Television Station's listeners, friends, and book friends, I am Zhou Yaxin, a reader at Xinhua Primary School in Qiaojia County. If you like my reading, please pay attention to the "Zhaotong Radio and Television Station" public number, at the end of this month for me to cast a valuable vote, thank you!
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