When Su Shi was 20, after they won the first prize, his mother died. In his thirties, his father died. There are only two brothers Su Shi and Su Zhe left at home.
After burying their father next to their mother, the two brothers never went back to their hometown. They were taught by their mothers, endorsed by their fathers, received guests from their uncles, played together, made inkstones together, took exams together, and swam to the Three Gorges for posts together. Now, we have become officials under factional politics together.
As adults, they have the same political views, but their appearance, temperament, personality and style of writing are different.
Extract some poems written by Su Shi to his brother:
I hope people will live for a long time and have a good scenery thousands of miles away.
A few more brothers and a son from all corners of the country.
Send the child to Qidan.
I, Ji Shen, am here across the sea of clouds from you. Why? Because you want to travel and wet your clothes with tears. You took pains to act as an emissary, braved the wind and snow, and let foreigners know about the outstanding elites of the imperial court.
You will look back at the moon in Kyoto in the desert, and your soul will see the spring scenery in the spring. If Liao Wang asks about your home, don't say that the first few people in the imperial court are only in the palace.
On September 20th, my brother wrote two poems about Huaizi, the first one.
Qiyang has a light snow in September and has been depressed for many years. Send the cold anvil in a short time, and the cold official can't do anything.
Parting from sorrow can dispel wine, and Qiu Lai, with white hair, has become a hairpin. Recently, I bought mink and fur, but I was so embarrassed that I suddenly thought of asking Chen Xi.
Man Jiang hong Huai zi you Zuo
The clear shadow flows east, and the eyes are broken and the sails are extinguished. Official tour, green hills and white waves, thousands of folds. It is so vain to live up to the seclusion of that year, and now it is so bleak to listen to the rain in the bed. Hate this life, looks away, wealth.
It's a deep regret that this life always passes with you in a hurry, and this helpless feeling can't help but make me white-haired. Infinite things, from the beginning. You two look at me as if you were in front of me, but before you know it, you have passed through the years. The old marks on the clothes are bitter tears, and the smile between the eyebrows is yellow. Then with you, find the last spring on the pool, with flowers like snow.
202 1 year1October 2? Huhehot