Asukaji
by (india) Rabindranath Tagore
About This Novel
Reading "The Collection of Birds" is like opening the secret letters written by each other under the cherry blossom tree when we were young. Those memories come out like a tide, those plays, those little sorrows, those heroic words, those pranks, those intimate moments, just like the sunset in the dusk, soaked in intoxicating red - young readers, this "The Collection of Birds" is like a diary of youth, and your memories will be preserved in it. Because it is a work that can distill "love" to the greatest extent. Reading "The Birds", you will find how harmonious love and being loved are; reading "The Birds", you will refine troubles and pain into a kind of practice. It is a blessing for young people to read "The Collection of Birds", because it is equivalent to planting the seeds of love in the clay pot of your life, and you don't know when it will take root and sprout.
What Readers Think
Rating
Community(0)
Official(326)Scraped 21d ago
Asukaji
Although I only read the beginning, the beautiful sentences at the beginning have already fascinated me to the point of inextricability: "Like in the morning after a heavy rain in early summer, I open the window and see an indifferent and clear morning: the sun shines on the leaves covered with water droplets, and the water droplets look particularly bright. This The brightness sets off the leaves into a bright color; the flat grass seems to have absorbed enough oil paint, and people are worried that the jumping squirrels will fall into it and dye it colorful; there are a few white clouds wandering in the sky, as if they are recalling the carnival last night; everything is so fresh and bright..."
When you cry because you miss the sun you will also miss the stars. Gentle words give people spiritual comfort, like a deep spring with still water running deep.
When the valleys and rivers, the sea and the sky are all transformed into pieces of text among the birds to dance with you, will you feel a trace of love and tolerance?
We see the world wrong and say it deceives us
Make life as gorgeous as summer flowers, and death as quiet and beautiful as autumn leaves.
We see the world wrong and say it has deceived us.
Books are like medicine. Good reading can cure stupidity.
Life is like a summer flower, vigorous and vigorous, death is like an autumn leaf, fallen leaves return to their roots...
No trace of the bird is left in the sky, but the bird has flown by.
Live like the splendor of summer flowers, die in the silence of late autumn
Rating
Community(0)
Official(326)Scraped 21d ago
Asukaji
Although I only read the beginning, the beautiful sentences at the beginning have already fascinated me to the point of inextricability: "Like in the morning after a heavy rain in early summer, I open the window and see an indifferent and clear morning: the sun shines on the leaves covered with water droplets, and the water droplets look particularly bright. This The brightness sets off the leaves into a bright color; the flat grass seems to have absorbed enough oil paint, and people are worried that the jumping squirrels will fall into it and dye it colorful; there are a few white clouds wandering in the sky, as if they are recalling the carnival last night; everything is so fresh and bright..."
When you cry because you miss the sun you will also miss the stars. Gentle words give people spiritual comfort, like a deep spring with still water running deep.
When the valleys and rivers, the sea and the sky are all transformed into pieces of text among the birds to dance with you, will you feel a trace of love and tolerance?
We see the world wrong and say it deceives us
Make life as gorgeous as summer flowers, and death as quiet and beautiful as autumn leaves.
We see the world wrong and say it has deceived us.
Books are like medicine. Good reading can cure stupidity.
Life is like a summer flower, vigorous and vigorous, death is like an autumn leaf, fallen leaves return to their roots...
No trace of the bird is left in the sky, but the bird has flown by.
Live like the splendor of summer flowers, die in the silence of late autumn
