1 音乐之声（1）
Suddenly I heard quick footsteps behind me, and a full, resonant voice exclaimed: ”I e you are looking at my flag.”
上海护照There he was - the Captain!
The tall, well-dresd gentleman standing before me was certainly a far cry from the old a wolf of my imagination. His air of complete lf-assurance and somewhat lordly bearing would have frightened me, had it not been for his warm and hearty handshake.
"I am so glad you have come,
I filled in, "Maria. "
关于玉兰花的诗句 He took me in from top to toe with a quick glance. All of a sudden I became very conscious of my funny dress, and sure enough, there I was diving under my helmet again. But the Captain's eyes rested on my shoes.小贝流浪记
闻道微课
We were still standing in the hall when he said. "I want you to meet the children first of all.”
儿童身高体重表
Out of his pocket he took an odd-shaped, ornamented brass whistle, on which he piped a ries of complicated trills.
I must have looked highly amazed, becau he said, a little apologetically:" You e it takes so long to call so many children by name, that I've given them each a different whistle. "
Of cour, I now expected to hear a loud banging of doors and a chorus of giggles and shouts, the scampering feet of youngsters jumping down the steps and sliding down the banister. Instead, led by a sober-faced young girl in her early teens, an almost solemn little procession descended step by step in well-mannered silence - four girls and two boys, all dresd in sailor suits. For an instant we stared at each other in utter amazement. I had never en such perfect little ladies and gentlemen, and they had never en such a helmet.
"Here is our new teacher, Fraulein Maria. "
“Gruss Gott, Fraulein Maria, " six voices echoed in unison. Six perfect bows followed.
That wasn't real. That couldn't be true. I had to shove back that ridiculous hat again. This push, however, was the last. Down came the ugly brown thing, rolled on the shiny parquet floor, and landed at the tiny feet of a very pretty, plump little girl of about five. A delighted giggle cut through the vere silence. The ice was broken. We all laughed.
色青五月
(From Maria Augusta Trapp, The Sound of Music)
2. 音乐之声（会计科目的概念2）
After dinner I was told that I was free for the evening to do my unpacking and get ttled.
Well, the unpacking didn't take more than five minutes. The toothbrush and the few pieces of underwear, the brown velvet dress, looking hopelessly like a sack, and the doze
n books were quickly arranged. The satchel and the little hat wandered into the darkest corner of the huge wardrobe. The New Testament and the Rule of Saint Benedict, together with a little cross, were placed on my night table
Then I went over to the window. In the red light of the tting sun there stretched a large park with meadows and groups of big trees and meadows again. And a little farther I saw, sharply drawn against the pale evening sky, the profile of my beloved mountain, the Utersberg, just as we had en it every day from Nonnberg. And there were all the others, too: Tennengebirge, Hagengebirge, Staufen, Watzmann.
I felt a little better already. When you are a child of the mountains yourlf, you really belong to them. You need them. They become the faithful guardians of your life. If you cannot dwell on their lofty heights all your life, if you are in trouble, you want at least to look at them.
Happily, like a little schoolgirl, I made mylf a calendar which showed two hundred and fifty days, the exact'number I should have to endure in this hou. The first day was c
rosd out, and the last thought which went through my mind at the end of this important day was: After all - I don't belong here; I am just loaned.
(from Maria Augusta Trapp, The Sound of Music)
3. 伊甸之东(1)
关于运动的画The Salinas Valley is in Northern California. It is a long narrow swale between two ranges of mountains, and the Salinas River winds and twists up the center until it falls at last into Monterey Bay.
I remember, my childhood names for grass and cret flower. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in the summer - and what trees and asons smelled like - how people looked and walked and smelled even. The memory of odors is very rich.
I remember that the Gabilan Mountains to the east of the valley were light gay mountains full of sun and loveliness and a kind of invitation, so that you wanted to climb i
nto their warm foothills almost as you want to climb into the lap of a beloved mother. They were beckoning mountains with a brown grass love. The Santa Lucias stood up against the sky to the West and kept the valley from the open a, and they were dark and brooding -- unfriendly and dangerous. I always found in mylf a dread of west and a love of east. Where I ever got such an idea I cannot say, unless it could be that the morning came over the peaks of the Gabilans and the night drifted back from the ridges of the Santa Lucias. It may be that the birth and death of the day had some part in my feeling about the two ranges of mountains.
