晏殊《浣溪沙》ppt课件16精选教学.ppt

导入新课,浣溪沙一曲新词酒一杯是宋代词人晏殊的代表作。此词虽含伤春惜时之意，却实为感慨抒怀之情，悼惜残春，感伤年华的飞逝，又暗寓怀人之意。词中对宇宙人生的深思，给人以哲理性的启迪和美的艺术享受。其中“无可奈何花落去，似曾相识燕归来”两句历来为人们所称道。,浣溪沙.一曲新词酒一杯,北宋:晏殊,婉约，伤春，惜时，抒怀，人生，哲理。,学习目标,1、了解有关晏殊的文学常识；2、积累文言词汇；3、领会词的思想内容；4、背诵、默写全词。,走近作者,晏殊（991-1055）字同叔，著名词人、诗人、散文家，政治家。北宋抚州府临川城人（今江西进贤县文港镇沙河人，位于香楠峰下，其父为抚州府手力节级），是当时的抚州籍第一个宰相。晏殊与其第七子晏几道（1037-1110），在当时北宋词坛上，被称为“大晏”和“小晏”。,读准字音,浣hun溪沙 一曲q新词 晏yn殊 sh 旧亭tng台 夕x阳西下 无可奈ni何 似曾cng相识 小园香径jng 花落去 q 燕yn归来 独徘pi徊hui,读准节奏,浣溪沙 晏殊 一曲新词酒一杯，去年天气旧亭台。夕阳西下几时回？无可奈何花落去，似曾相识燕归来。小园香径独徘徊。,词句注释,【1】浣溪沙：唐玄宗时教坊曲名，后用为词调。沙，一作“纱”。【2】一曲新词酒一杯：新词，刚填好的词，意指新歌。酒一杯，一杯酒。【3】去年天气旧亭台：是说天气、亭台都和去年一样。【4】夕阳：落日。,【5】西下：向西方地平线落下。【6】几时回：什么时候回来。【7】无可奈何：不得已，没有办法。【8】似曾相识：好像曾经认识。形容见过的事物再度出现。后用作成语，即出自晏殊此句。,【9】燕归来：燕子从南方飞回来。燕归来，春中常景，在有意无意之间。【10】小园香径：花草芳香的小径，或指落花散香的小径。因落花满径，幽香四溢，故云香径。香径，带着幽香的园中小径。【11】独：副词，用于谓语前，表示“独自”的意思。【12】徘徊：来回走。,翻译词句,听一支新曲喝一杯美酒，还是去年的天气旧日的亭台，西落的夕阳何时再回来？那花儿落去我也无可奈何，那归来的燕子似曾相识，在小园的花径上独自徘徊。,分析词句,一曲新词酒一杯：富贵闲适的生活；去年天气旧亭台：时光流逝的感慨；夕阳西下几时回：触景抒写情怀。无可奈何花落去：悼惜的情感；似曾相识燕归来：感伤时光流逝；小园香径独徘徊：惆怅之情更为强烈。,上片：通过对眼前景物的咏叹，感伤年华易逝，将怀旧之感、伤今之情与惜时之意交织、融合在一起。下片：通过落花、归燕等具体事物和生活细节来深化上片的意境，惜念春光难留。,阅读理解,1、“夕阳西下几时回”暗含了怎样的哲理？夕阳西下，是无法阻止的，只能寄希望于它的东升再现，而时光的流逝、人事的变更，却再也无法重复。2、体会“小园香径独徘徊”中“独”字的妙处。道出孤寂之深，伤感之重。,3、这首词传达了作者的什么思想感情？面对美好事物的流逝，作者表现出对美好事物的留恋，对时光流逝的怅惘，与及对美好事物重现的微茫的希望。4、本词具有怎样的艺术魔力？这首词用语清新，明白如话，音律和谐。词意深广，从极为平常的时序转换中引出富含人生哲理的启示。,5、“无可奈何花落去，似曾相识燕归来”是名句，请简析这两句好在哪里？对仗工整，音韵和谐，情景交融，表达了作者对年华易逝的感叹和对友人的思念；蕴含了一切要消逝的美好事物都无法阻止，但在消逝的同时仍有美好事物再现，生活不因为消逝而虚无的生活哲理。,主题,这是晏殊词中最为脍炙人口的篇章。全词抒发了悼惜残春之情，表达了时光易逝，难以追挽的伤感。,s,some say she quoted every book of the bible by memory and iBoth sisters had had their love experience by the time the war came,and they were hurried home.Neither was ever in love with a young man unless he and she were verbally very near:that is unless they were profoundly interested,TALKING to one another.The amazing,the profound,the unbelievable thrill there was in passionately talking to some really clever young man by the hour,resuming day after day for months.this they had never realized till it happened!The paradisal promise:Thou shalt have men to talk to!-had never been uttered.It was fulfilled before they knew what a promise it was.And if after the roused intimacy39 of these vivid and soul-enlightened discussions the sex thing became more or less inevitable40,then let it.It marked the end of a chapter.It had a thrill of its own too:a queer vibrating thrill inside the body,a final spasm41 of self-assertion,like the last word,exciting,and very like the row of asterisks42 that can be put to show the end of a paragraph,and a break in the theme.When the girls came home for the summer holidays of 1913,when Hilda was twenty and Connie eighteen,their father could see plainly that they had had the love experience.Lamour avait poss par8 l,as somebody puts it.But he was a man of experience himself,and let life take its course.As for the mot a nervous invalid43 in the last few months of her life,she wanted her girls to be free,and to fulfil themselves.She herself had never been able to be altogether herself:it had been denied her.Heaven knows why,for she was a woman who had her own income and her own way.She blamed her husband.But as a matter of fact,it was some old impression of authority on her own mind or soul that she could not get rid of.It had nothing to do with Sir Malcolm,who left his nervously44 hostile,high-spirited wife to rule her own roost,while he went his own way.So the girls were free,and went back to Dresden,and their music,and the university and the young men.They loved their respective young men,and their respective young men loved them with all the passion of mental attraction.All the wonderful things the young men thought and expressed and wrote,they thought and expressed and wrote for the young women.Connies young man was musical,Hildas was technical.But they simply lived for their young women.In their minds and their mental excitements,that is.Somewhere else they were a little rebuffed,though they did not know it.It was obvious in them too that love had gone through them:that is,the physical experience.It is curious what a subtle but unmistakable transmutation it makes,both in the body of men and women:the woman more blooming,more subtly rounded,her young angularities softened45,and her expression either anxious or triumphant46:the man much quieter,more inward,the very shapes of his shoulders and his buttocks less assertive47,more hesitant.In the actual sex-thrill within the body,the sisters nearly succumbed48 to the strange male power.But quickly they recovered themselves,took the sex-thrill as a sensation,and remained free.Whereas the men,in gratitude49 to the woman for the sex experience,let their souls go out to her.And afterwards looked rather as if they had lost a shilling and found sixpence.Connies man could be a bit sulky,and Hildas a bit jeering50.But that is how men are!Ungrateful and never satisfied.When you dont have them they hate you because you wont;and when you do have them they hate you again,for some other reason.Or for no reason at all,except that they are discontented children,and cant be satisfied whatever they get,let a woman do what she may.However,came the war,Hilda and Connie were rushed home again after having been home already in May,to their mothers funeral.Before Christmas of 1914 both their German young men were dead:whereupon the sisters wept,and loved the young men passionately,but underneath51 forgot them.They didnt exist any more.Both sisters lived in their fathers,really their mothers,Kensington housemixed with the young Cambridge group,the group that stood for freedom and flannel52 trousers,and flannel shirts open at the neck,and a well-bred sort of emotional anarchy53,and a whispering,murmuring sort of voice,and an ultra-sensitive sort of manner.Hilda,however,suddenly married a man ten years older than herself,an elder member of the same Cambridge group,a man with a fair amount of money,and a comfortable family job in the government:he also wrote philosophical essays.She lived with him in a smallish house in Westminster,and moved in that good sort of society of people in the government who are not tip-toppers,but who are,or would be,the real intelligent power in the nation:people who know what theyre talking about,or talk as if they did.Connie did a mild form of war-work,and consorted54 with the flannel-trousers Cambridge intransigents,who gently mocked at everything,so far.Her friend was a Clifford Chatterley,a young man of twenty-two,who had hurried home from Bonn,where he was studying the technicalities of coal-mining.He had previously55 spent two years at Cambridge.Now he had become a first lieutenant56 in a smart regiment57,so he could mock at everything more becomingly in uniform.Clifford Chatterley was more upper-class than Connie.Connie was well-to-do intelligentsia,but he was aristocracy.Not the big sort,but still it.His father was a baronet,and his mother had been a viscounts daughter.But Clifford,while he was better bred than Connie,and more society,was in his own way more provincial and more timid.He was at his ease in the narrow great world,that is,landed aristocracy society,but he was shy and nervous of all that other big world which consists of the vast hordes58 of the middle and lower classes,and foreigners.If the truth must be told,he was just a little bit frightened of middle-and lower-class humanity,and of foreigners not of his own class.He was,in some paralysing way,conscious of his own defencelessness,though he had all the defence of privilege.Which is curious,but a phenomenon of our day.Therefore the peculiar59 soft assurance of a girl like Constance Reid fascinated him.She was so much more mistress of herself in that outer world of chaos60 than he was master of himself.Nevertheless he too was a rebel:rebelling even against his class.Or perhaps rebel is too strong a word;far too strong.He was only caught in the general,popular recoil61 of the young against convention and against any sort of real authority.Fathers were ridiculous:his own obstinate62 one supremely so.And governments were ridiculous:our own wait-and-see sort especially so.And armies were ridiculous,and old buffers63 of generals altogether,the red-faced Kitchener supremely.Even the war was ridiculous,though it did kill rather a lot of people.In fact everything was a little ridiculous,or very ridiculous:certainly everything connected with authority,whether it were in the army or the government or the universities,was ridiculous to a degree.And as far as the governing class made any pretensions64 to govern,they were ridiculous too.Sir Geoffrey,Cliffords father,was intensely ridiculous,chopping down his trees,and weeding men out of his colliery to shove them into the war;and himself being so safe and patriotic65;but,also,spending more money on his country than hed got.When Miss Chatterley-Emma-came down to London from the Midlands to do some nursing work,she was very witty66 in a quiet way about Sir Geoffrey and his determined67 patriotism68.Herbert,the elder brother and heir,laughed outright69,though it was his trees that were falling for trench70 props71.But Clifford only smiled a little uneasily.Everything was ridiculous,quite true.But when it came too close and oneself became ridiculous too.?At least people of a different class,like Connie,were earnest about something.They believed in something.They were rather earnest about the Tommies,and the threat of conscription,and the shortage of sugar and toffee for the children.In all these things,of course,the authorities were ridiculously at fault.But Clifford could not take it to heart.To him the authorities were ridiculous ab ovo,not because of toffee or Tommies.And the authorities felt ridiculous,and behaved in a rather ridiculous fashion,and it was all a mad hatters tea-party for a while.Till things developed over there,and Lloyd George came to save the situation over here.And this surpassed even ridicule72,the flippant young laughed no more.In 1916 Herbert Chatterley was killed,so Clifford became heir.He was terrified even of this.His importance as son of Sir Geoffrey,and child of Wragby,was so ingrained in him,he could never escape it.And yet he knew that this too,in the eyes of the vast seething73 world,was ridiculous.Now he was heir and responsible for Wragby.Was that not terrible?and also splendid and at the same time,perhaps,purely74 absurd?Sir Geoffrey would have none of the absurdity75.He was pale and tense,withdrawn76 into himself,and obstinately77 determined to save his country and his own position,let it be Lloyd George or who it might.So cut off he was,so divorced from the England that was really England,so utterly78 incapable79,that he even thought well of Horatio Bottomley.Sir Geoffrey stood for England and Lloyd George as his forebears had stood for England and St George:and he never knew there was a difference.So Sir Geoffrey felled timber and stood for Lloyd George and England,England and Lloyd George.And he wanted Clifford to marry and produce an heir.Clifford felt his father was a hopeless anachronism.But wherein was he himself any further ahead,except in a wincing80 sense of the ridiculousness of everything,and the paramount81 ridiculousness of his own position?For willy-nilly he took his baronetcy and Wragby with the last seriousness.The gay excitement had gone out of the war.dead.Too much death and horror.A man needed support arid comfort.A man needed to have an anchor in the safe world.A man needed a wife.The Chatterleys,two brothers and a sister,had lived curiously82 isolated83,shut in with one another at Wragby,in spite of all their connexions.A sense of isolation84 intensified85 the family tie,a sense of the weakness of their position,a sense of defencelessness,in spite of,or because of,the title and the land.They were cut off from those industrial Midlands in which they passed their lives.And they were cut off from their own class by the brooding,obstinate,shut-up nature of Sir Geoffrey,their father,whom they ridiculed86,but whom they were so sensitive about.The three had said they would all live together always.But now Herbert was dead,and Sir Geoffrey wanted Clifford to marry.Sir Geoffrey barely mentioned it:he spoke very little.But his silent,brooding insistence87 that it should be so was hard for Clifford to bear up against.But Emma said No!She was ten years older than Clifford,and she felt his marrying would be a desertion and a betrayal of what the young ones of the family had stood for.Clifford married Connie,nevertheless,and had his months honeymoon with her.It was the terrible year 1917,and they were intimate as two people who stand together on a sinking ship.He had been virgin88 when he married:and the sex part did not mean much to him.They were so close,he and she,apart from that.And Connie exulted89 a little in this intimacy which was beyond sex,and beyond a mans satisfaction.Clifford anyhow was not just keen on his satisfaction,as so many men seemed to be.No,the intimacy was deeper,more personal than that.And sex was merely an accident,or an adjunct,one of the curious obsolete90,organic processes which persisted in its own clumsiness,but was not really necessary.Though Connie did want children:if only to fortify91 her against her sister-in-law Emma.But early in 1918 Clifford was shipped home smashed,and there was no child.And Sir Geoffrey died of chagrin92.Ours is essentially a tragic age,so we refuse to take it tragically.The cataclysm has happened,we are among the ruins,we start to build up new little habitats,to have new little hopes.It is rather hard work:there is now no smooth road into the future:but we go round,or scramble over the obstacles.Weve got to live,no matter how many skies have fallen.This was more or less Constance Chatterleys position.The war had brought the roof down over her head.And she had realized that one must live and learn.t took a whole day and awhole night.What is certain is,at the end of it all,Darcus s,