Problem description:

Please give me a shorter one.

Analysis:

Many critics say that poets are "children of mankind". Because they are naive and kind. Among many poets today, Rabindranath Tagore is a "child angel". His poems are like the face of a real angel in this day; Look at him and you will know the meaning of everything.

Tagore's New Moon Collection

Children's world

I hope I can occupy a quiet corner in the center of the children's own world.

I know there are stars talking to him, and the sky hangs down in front of him, entertaining him with its silly clouds and rainbows.

Those who thought he was dumb, those who never seemed to walk, all climbed to his window with their stories and plates full of colorful toys.

I wish I could get rid of all the shackles on the road across the child's heart;

There, the emissary carried out an indifferent mission between the kingdoms of kings who had never lived before;

There, reason flies with her laws like a kite, and truth frees facts from shackles.

Be responsible for preparation

My child, why are there tears in your eyes?

They are really terrible and often blame you unnecessarily!

When you write, ink stains your hands and face-is that why they say you are dirty?

Oh, bah! Do they dare to say that the round moon is dirty because she painted her face with ink?

They always blame you for every little thing, my child. They are always looking for unnecessary mistakes.

You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they say you are untidy?

Oh, bah! In the autumn morning, smile from its broken cloud clothes. So, what are they going to call it?

Whatever they say to you, you can ignore him, my child.

They gave a long description of what you did wrong.

Everyone knows that you like candy very much-is that why they say you are greedy?

Oh, bah! We like you, so what do they want to call us?

Judges

You can say anything about him, but I know my child's shortcomings.

I love him not because he is good, but because he is my child.

If you weigh his advantages and disadvantages, I'm afraid you'll know how cute he is.

He became a part of my life when I had to punish him.

When I made him cry, my heart cried.

Only I have the right to scold him and punish him, because only those who love others can punish others.

Play tool

Boy, you are so happy. You have been sitting in the dirt all morning, playing with the broken branches.

I watched you play with that broken branch with a smile.

I'm busy with the accounts, adding figures there hour by hour.

Maybe you are looking at me and thinking: this boring game wasted your good time in the morning!

Boy, I forgot how to concentrate on playing with branches and mud cakes.

I look for expensive toys and collect gold and silver.

You, whatever you find, play your happy game. As for me, I waste my time and energy on what I will never get.

I struggled to sail across the sea of desire in my fragile canoe and forgot that I was playing games there.

astronomer

I just said, "The full moon hangs on the branches of Catambo at night. Can anyone catch it?"

My brother smiled at me: "Son, you are really the stupidest child I have ever seen. The moon is so far away from us, who can catch it? "

I said, "Brother, you are so stupid! When mom looks out the window and smiles and looks down at our game, can you also say that she is far away? "

My brother still said, "You silly child! But, son, where are you going to find a net big enough to catch the moon? "

I said, "You can naturally catch it with both hands."

But my brother still smiled and said, "You are really the stupidest child I have ever seen! If the moon comes near, you will know how big it is. "

I said, "Brother, what you teach at school is really useless! Does mom look big when she bows her head and kisses us? "

But my brother still said, "You are such a silly child."

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(1) Gatanbo, formerly known as Kadamba, also known as Kadamba, is literally translated as "white flower", namely epiphyllum.

Yunhelang

Mom, people living in the clouds call me-

"We play from waking to the end of the day.

"We play with the golden dawn, and we play with the silver moon."

I asked, "But how can I contact you?"

They replied, "Come to the edge of the earth, raise your hand to the sky, and you will be caught by the clouds."

"My mother is waiting for me at home," I said. "How can I leave her?"

So they laughed and floated away.

But I know a better game, mom.

I am the cloud and you are the moon.

I cover you with my hands. Our roof is blue sky.

People living on the waves call me-

"We sing from morning till night; We go forward, go forward, and don't know where we have gone. "

I asked, "But how can I join your team?"

They told me, "Come to the shore, stand there, close your eyes, and you will be taken to the waves."

I said, "at night, my mother often lets me stay at home-how can I leave her!" " "

So they came running, laughing and jumping.

But I know a better game.

I am a wave, and you are a strange shore.

I rushed in, rushed in, rushed in, and broke into your thigh with a smile.

No one in the world will know where we are.

Jinhua

If I become a golden flower, just for fun, growing on the high branches of that tree, swaying in the wind with a smile and dancing on the new leaves, mom, will you know me?

If you yell, "Where are you, son?" I snickered there, but didn't say a word.

I will quietly open my petals and watch you work.

When you take a shower, put your wet hair on your shoulders, walk past the golden flower shaded by green trees, and walk to the yard where you pray, you will smell the fragrance of this flower, but you don't know it comes from me.

When you sit at the window and read Ramayana after lunch, the shadow of that tree falls on your hair and knees, and I will cast my little shadow on your page, where you are reading.

But can you guess that this is a small shadow of your child?

When you go to the cowshed with a lamp at dusk, I will suddenly fall to the ground again and become your child again. Please tell me a story.

"Where have you been, you bad boy?"

"I won't tell you, mom." That's what you and I were trying to say.

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(1) Jinhua, formerly known as champa, also known as champak, scientific name michclia champaca, Indian holy tree, Magnolia, has golden broken flowers. It is also translated as "Zhanboga" or "Zhanboga".

(2) Ramayana is an Indian narrative poem, which is said to have been written by Walmiki. The present version was formed in the second century AD. The book is divided into seven volumes, with 24,000 praises, all describing Rama's life. Rama is Rama Gandhara. The son of the king of ten chariots and the husband of Siddhartha. He joined the WTO in the second (treta yaga) and became the seventh incarnation of Vishnu. Indians regard him as a hero, and some people regard him as a god.

Fairy tale world

If people know where my palace is, it will disappear into the air.

The walls are white and silver, and the roof is dazzling gold.

The queen lives in a palace with seven courtyards; The jewelry she wears is worth all the wealth of the seven kingdoms.

But let me tell you quietly, mom, where is my palace?

In the corner of our balcony, there is a flowerpot with pale yellow flowers.

The princess is lying on the other side of seven impassable oceans, sleeping.

No one in the world can find her except myself.

She wears bracelets on her arms and pearls on her ears; Her hair dragged on the floor.

When I touched her with my wand, she woke up. When I smiled, Zhuyu slipped from her lips.

However, let me tell you quietly in my ear, mom; She lives in the corner of our balcony, where there is a flowerpot with pale yellow flowers.

When you want to take a bath in the river, come to the balcony on the roof.

I sat in the corner where the shadows of the wall met.

I only let the kitten stay with me because it knows where the barber in that story lives.

However, let me tell you quietly in your ear where the barber in that story lives.

He lives at the corner of the balcony, with a flowerpot with Datura flower.