The festival of the dead, the carnival of tears
Whips, tribute fruits and incense sticks have been formed.
The scenery is vast.
We walked past the rigid wooden shelf.
Those souls are crowded together
As if to keep warm.
Close to each other
These souls are quiet and silent.
In their own boxes.
Think of the streets and acquaintances.
One thing, and ...
Love that you can't get in your early years
Now the body has been sawed.
Sculpting, painting
Different from before
Listen, firecrackers keep ringing like many people use their hands.
Slam the table with an empty porcelain bowl
Another way to express it is
We put all kinds of feelings
Dices are usually thrown on the table.
Then put it away.
Make the same sound
Oh, white ashes, the best morality
These souls are no longer used.
Language, actions and eyes
They cleaned up their lives a long time ago.
No more guests, no more loans
Some of their remaining breaths
It is our short and long memory.
What have we brought today?
Cakes and fruits are real.
In their eyes, it's like a person dreaming.
Have all kinds of dreams
Indirect things, rich fantasies
Eat, this is life.
within reach
Through the flames, these souls are like birds.
There is a nest, in a self-sufficient box
Regardless of spring, summer, autumn and winter; They began to regret it.
These long-term imprisoned souls
How eager to be like dust.
Between heaven and earth, like rain in the wind.
Or light falling from a screen between trees.
Look, light smoke is everywhere, we see it.
Sincere nostalgia has turned into a fog.
Once a year, on the steps
On the lawn, these boxes
Worshipped by us, erased by tears
And incense sticks are like our sadness.
Burn to ashes gradually
Close to each other
As if to keep warm.
Those souls are crowded together
We walked past the rigid wooden shelf.
The scenery is vast.
Whip, tribute and incense have been formed.
The festival of the dead, the carnival of tears
2. How about the modern poem "Soul" related to the soul-Luo Yihe
Over the ancient city
The sky is blue and rich.
Like a god, an open body.
A kind of quiet door
It contains the pain when I look at it.
The person I love is working and getting married.
Drowning and writing.
Buried in warm ashes
All it takes is a rainstorm.
Their long journey disappeared.
If someone counts the living and feels the life in full bloom.
Who is like us?
Lying on the dry and wide yellow mud floor.
Traces of rutting come and go.
There is no grass around.
There is no grass under it, no pulsating sound.
Only my heart is beating.
I feel myself beating.
A gust of wind blew away the walls and roof.
Dancing on strings connected by hearts
So I vertically penetrated one hundred generations.
So I burned completely.
I saw it.
It's in the bright crystal sky.
The vast blue sky stings.
Oblique to the sun
There are a group of black and white objects flying capably.
Flapping its wings and rising steadily.
Sun Diary
Over the dark city in spring
Over the mountains, there are frozen animal footprints on the mountains.
Vientiane lit up and the fire came down.
Blood fell to the ground.
The sky learned speed in the dark.
The sky is clear and evil is shining.
Indulge in pain and burning
Sparkling fire
Carrying rolling human flesh and words.
Bright snow-capped mountains make the blue sky suspicious and warm.
Bursts of red horses stopped on the shore of a pool of blood.
A few pages of bright red diaries were rolled and exposed at sea.
There, fetishism chariots drove past pines and cypresses and stone statues.
The sky is closed and huge.
Red slums are compressed on a cruel plane.
There: the sidelight of the eye.
Like prey in the air. time flies
The flowing water in the fish's stomach opened the white shroud.
There: there is a bigger shadow behind my mind, and the dance is looming-
A group of strange birds followed.
Practice footprints in the shadow
My heart is starting to feel uncomfortable.
There: the mind rolls in the vast sea of people and thin hooks.
Finally burned to the ground.
There: the poet burns on the black iron.
Divide life and death in two and pour out a head.
Sweating like a pig.
The leopard escaped its golden eye in weathering.
There: people die in life.
The river is rolling with a fiery red color.
Drifting the bodies of tigers and calves
The stars shine in the bloody morning.
The sun flashed and exploded inside.
A flash of bright red core, a flash of light
The fire flaked off the shoulder.
From the center of the spine and breathing, a light flashed.
A map of the sun coming out of heaven
Out of body experience
The struggle against ambition is in full swing.
Calm down.
Diary of seeing sun
Round up your old dreams and don't share them.
Facing where I come from-an empty and bloody sea.
3. The Complete Works of Modern Poetry (1) "Cars in Shanghai and Hangzhou"-Xu Zhimo is in a hurry! Come on, come on! A cigarette, a mountain, a few clouds, a piece of water, a bridge, a muffled sound, a piece of pine, a clump of bamboo, a piece of red leaves: colorful fields, colorful autumn scenery, clear as a dream, vague and obscure-urge! Is it a wheel or time? Urging old Qiu, urging old age! 2. "First Love"-Shimazaki Tōson remembers the first meeting under the apple tree. Your dark hair has just been tied up and a carving comb is inserted obliquely on your head, which makes your face as beautiful as flowers and jade. You warmly stretched out your white hands and put the apple in my arms. The autumn fruit with a slight blush, just like the love we started, accidentally vomited a sigh and landed gently on your temples. The cup of happy love is full of your sweetness and gentleness. There is a natural feeling in that apple tree forest. The path shyly asked me who walked out first. 3. "As long as I loved once"-If Wang Guozhen had never met, maybe his heart would never be heavy. If he really misses it, I'm afraid it won't be easy in his life. A glance is enough to let the heart pass by the hurricane and get a deeper understanding of the scenery on the barren land. A long journey is enough to make a weak heart haggard. Whenever he looks at Qiu Shui, he wants to die in tears. How can he not be carefree and indifferent? Tagore traveler, do you have to go? The night was quiet and I slept in the Woods in the dark.
The terrace is brightly lit, full of flowers, and young eyes are still awake. Traveler, do you have to go? We didn't bind your feet with pleading arms. Your door is open and your saddle is standing at the door.
If we try to stand in your way, it's only with our songs. If we try to stop you, it's only with our eyes. Traveler, we can't keep you. We only have tears.
What is the eternal fire shining in your eyes? What restless fanaticism is running in your blood? What is calling you in the dark? What terrible magic do you see in the stars in the sky? Does the night enter your silent and eccentric heart with sealed secret information? Tired heart, if you don't like happy parties, if you must be quiet, we will put out our lights and stop playing our harp. We will sit quietly in the rustling leaves in the dark, and the tired moon will shed pale light on your window.
Traveler, what sleepless spirit touched you from the heart of midnight? 5, "Love Poetry of Tea" Beauty Zhang Cuo If I am boiled water and you are tea, then your fragrance must rely on my tasteless to dry you up, spread gently on me, relax, and let my infiltration stretch your face. I must be hot, even boiling, to be compatible with each other. Before we decide to turn into a color, we must hide in the water and try to have a cup of tea. No matter how ups and downs you can't control, you will eventually slowly (oh, gently fall and gather in my deepest place. At that time, your bitterest tears will be my sweetest sip of tea. If I don't meet you in this life, Tagore, if I don't meet you in this life, let me never forget it. Let me wake up with this sad pain in my dream. When I spend my days in the bustling cities of the world, with my daily profit in my hand, I always feel that I have got nothing-let me never forget that when I wake up from my dream, I will bear this sad pain in my dream.
When I'm sitting on the side of the road, breathing wearily, when I spread my bedding in the dust, let me always remember that the road ahead is long-let me never forget that I woke up with this sad pain in my dream. When my home was decorated, the flute was playing and the laughter was so loud that I always felt that I didn't invite you-let me never forget it, and let me wake up with this sad pain in my dream.
7. "Tie a Heartstring" Tagore The music of your lyre is fluctuating. The strings quietly tied a heartstring to me.
From then on, my heart jingled with the music you played all year round, and my soul curled up with your melody. Your eyes shine with my lamp of hope, and your flowers blend with my desire.
From then on, day and night, between your peerless beauty, my heart shines, blooms and rocks, and the shadow of my soul looms on your face. 8. "My Love" Dai Wangshu Let me tell you about my love. My love is a shy person. She is shy, with a peach blossom face, peach blossom lips and a blue heart.
She has a pair of big black eyes, so she dare not stare at mine-no, because she is shy, and when I lean on her chest, you can say that her eyes have changed color, the color of sky blue and the color of her heart. She has a pair of delicate hands that will comfort me when I am worried. She has a clear and charming voice. Only gentleness and gentleness can melt my heart.
She is a quiet girl. She knows how to love someone who loves her, but I can never tell you her name because she is a shy lover. 9. "Well, we won't wander together" Byron Well, we won't wander together and spend this deep night, although this heart is still infatuated, although the moonlight is still so bright.
Because the sword can pierce the scabbard and the soul can pierce the chest, this heart has to stop breathing and love has to rest. Although night comes for love, it will soon be day, but in this moonlight world, we no longer roam together.
18 17.2. 18 translation 10 When you walk under my window, Shu Ting, bless me when you walk under my window, because the light is still on. The light is on-like a fishing fire drifting in the dark.
You can imagine my cabin, like a boat driven by strong winds. But I didn't sink, because the light was still on.
The light is on-when the curtain shows a shadow, it means that I am an old man without unrestrained gestures, and my back is more hunched than before. But it's not my heart that is aging, because the light is still on.
The light is on-answer questions from all directions with such a hot relationship.
4. Modern poetry with a sense of soul is a bit of a cloud (write it down, hehe)
In the middle of the night, I suddenly sat up?
Through the window?
See a remnant cloud in the east?
Pale and ethereal
Is that smoke coming out of my mouth?
It must be full of my loneliness?
Is it the residual scene after the fireworks burn out?
It must be full of my broken love and dreams?
?
As dark as the world in my dream?
I looked up and all I could see was-?
That remnant cloud in the East?
The corners of your mouth are slightly upturned, and your heart is as happy as returning to your hometown?
That remnant cloud is my home?
?
I just looked at that remnant cloud?
I wonder if the east is white?
The first ray of sunshine in the east dyed the residual clouds colorful?
I had an epiphany?
Isn't there only two colors in my world: gray and white?
?
That remnant cloud likes to show off?
Flying around under the blue sky?
My heart is as happy as returning to my hometown
5. Who wrote the modern poem Soul? It was written by Luo Yihe.
Over the ancient city
The sky is blue and rich.
Like a god, an open body.
A kind of quiet door
It contains the pain when I look at it.
The person I love is working and getting married.
Drowning and writing.
Buried in warm ashes
All it takes is a rainstorm.
Their long journey disappeared.
If someone counts the living and feels the life in full bloom.
Who is like us?
Lying on the dry and wide yellow mud floor.
Traces of rutting come and go.
There is no grass around.
There is no grass under it, no pulsating sound.
Only my heart is beating.
I feel myself beating.
A gust of wind blew away the walls and roof.
Dancing on strings connected by hearts
So I vertically penetrated one hundred generations.
So I burned completely.
……
6. I won't go to see the clouds in a modern poem describing the darkness of the soul.
Think back to the way we drifted gently in the afterlife.
I won't go to see running water.
Endure the light filled with pebbles and lose tears.
Only night hangs over me.
Just like the decrease of bubbles in the ocean.
Not far from the aging window.
Like a flag defeated on the battlefield.
The stroke of midnight struck my hand.
An old duck is flying in the sun.
-The mascot of this ancient era.
Standing on my wooden pavilion
The surrounding decorations appeared again.
Can't help being covered with dust.
This scene in the morgue
Illuminated many people's lives.
I hope I never hear from you again.
Every day in the delicious newspaper of the city
Look for the handrail that flies by on the tram.
From now on, I will face the sunshine.
On the stainless steel blade
You don't need to wait for me.
A snowy wasteland.
7. What are the modern poems describing "darkness of mind" called Qinghai Lake?
This proud glass
For whom?
A desolate plateau
Who are the birds and salt in the sky lifted for?
The waves receded from lonely fingers.
White bird island surrounded by sons.
In a remote and dirty town.
Pride glass
Princess Qinghai, please hold me in your arms.
How poor, barren and dirty I am.
A pair of snow-white wings can only give me a moment of happiness.
I saw you flying in the sun.
Blue Princess of Qinghai Lake
My lonely fingers turned into snow-white birds in the sky
1988.7.25
Qinghai Lake is Haizi's later work. It is a good poem with gentle and implicit tone, which not only maintains the openness of language, but also has the natural rhythmic beauty of poetic rhythm.
Qinghai Lake is water, maternal, silent, eternal and full of oriental temperament (please refer to the original postscript of Only Water and Water). Haizi strangely imagined it as a wine glass. Wine is the essence of food and the essence of life growing on the earth. If the water is quiet, then the wine is warm and intuitive, representing a sudden touch. As Haizi wrote in Wine Glass, "wine, stone cells are imprisoned and released by lightning".
In the paragraph "A proud wine glass/Princess of Qinghai, please hold me in your arms", Haizi also compared Qinghai Lake to a princess. The princess is a symbol of purity. Haizi decorated Qinghai Lake with purity and longed to sink into it, which showed his desire for purity. "I see you flying from the sun", the sun is the embodiment of truth and order, and also symbolizes the poet's yearning for the ultimate unity of poetry and truth. In this poem, "Sun" contains these meanings. Qinghai Lake comes from the sun, which shows that it is the seed of truth.
"Desolate plateau" refers to the desolation of the plateau. Compared with the water in Qinghai Lake, the plateau is land and closer to the sky. The plateau is desolate and the earth is desolate. Haizi decorated the plateau with desolation, but decorated his hometown with "filth". At the moment, the poet of In a Dirty Town is far away from his dirty hometown, and he is more eager to make himself no longer dirty and desolate. He wants to throw himself into the pure Qinghai Lake and let the pure lake wash away his filth.
The third paragraph of the poem reads: "The waves recede from the lonely finger/white bird island, surrounded by sons/in a dirty town far away." For example, the "son" in "Spring" and "Ten Haizi" is the lyrical subject of division, and such examples include "You come from afar/I go to a distant place" (a poem in the night) and so on. The dirtiness of hometown brings the dirtiness and desolation of Haizi (the lyric subject). Dirty can make pure lake water clean, but desolate, even if there is pure lake water, what's the use? In "Motherland or Dreams as Horses", the lyrical subject said that he was "empty and tired" and achieved nothing, and the wasted life was the most intolerable. It is better to live a miserable life than to die solemnly (diary 1 1, 8, 1986, described by Christopher). Poverty means futility, which means the failure of pursuing truth and home. On the one hand, I am eager to lead an honest and clean life, on the other hand, I am a martyr in vain and die solemnly.
In the fourth paragraph, Haizi longs for the purest part of truth to wash himself, and longs for purity and truth. What a beautiful scene it is at this moment when Haizi is lyrical. However, "a pair of snow-white wings can only give me a moment of happiness", which shows that these pure things still can't completely wash away the darkness in his heart. This purity and beauty can only last for a moment. In this way, what's the point of leading an honest and clean life and pursuing purity? He will eventually have fundamental doubts about the purity, sacred order and truth. "What do you mean by dawn?" (Spring, Ten Haizi) The third paragraph "son" is the self-division of the lyric subject, representing the dirty part of the poet in the real world ("hometown"). In a dirty world, it is meaningless to wash oneself, so the poet will split himself, and he who is eager to find the truth can be baptized in purity. This division is a compromise, but even if it is a compromise, this part of the self still gets only a moment of happiness. Why can it only be a moment? Is there too much darkness in my heart that I can't wash away, or can't let go of my dirty self who cares about my hometown? No matter how to explain it, his tendency to split himself has already appeared, and he will eventually become "ten Haizi". In the end, he may destroy the dirty parts. Perhaps this is the only way to pursue purity.
Qinghai Lake is about mother's water, which is pure, but it implies that the lyricist has found that purity and truth can't make him happy for a long time. His solution is, on the one hand, to plunge into the clear lake and complete a solemn martyrdom; On the other hand, it is to split the self and try to make some of the self get peace. However, all these failed. The lyrical subject who looks elegant but pursues pain finally goes to elegies such as Poem at Night and Ten Haizi in Spring.
8. What is the soul of modern poetry? Personality is the soul of modern poetry.
Personality is the soul of modern poetry. It is hard to imagine that a modern poem without personality will have strong vitality and artistic appeal.
I remember a friend said to me: if a poem reads without lines, it feels like a prose diary. I'm afraid this poem, whether it is a poem or an essay, needs more consideration in content and expression. Some friends also said that if a poem is read three or two times repeatedly, but you still can't see what the China symbol wants to express, then put it aside to avoid wasting time and feelings.
Personally, these two views, in the discussion of different opinions, more prominently reflect people's requirements for this special style of poetry. Generally speaking, the space of poetry is open and leaping; The expression is also subtle and refined, which is the most refined style. The main difference between it and the general style is not the style and typesetting of the works.
Nowadays, the requirements for the creation of modern new poetry are very wide, and there are many types derived. It seems that everyone who loves poetry can write new poems with a stroke of the pen. Personally, I think it is very easy to write without substance. However, it is difficult to really write excellent works that people have read over and over again. It is up to the author to attract readers' attention with his own language skills and charm, and with the strong theme he wants to express.
Haste makes waste, and the accumulation of knowledge is the only way for everyone. Every friend who can skillfully use the skills and charm of Chinese language to write basically has the foundation of personal writing. The personality of the article comes from the learning knowledge, living environment and personal consciousness under the background of the times. No matter what style the author uses or deliberately hides it, there will always be clues, and all the details can be found without too much emphasis. Too much emphasis on personality makes you laugh. Tigers and dogs often run counter to their own personal style.
———————————————————— the dividing line.
I didn't want to copy it originally, hehe, but what this friend said was much more wonderful than the stupid old pig, so I had to copy it again! - -! Personally, I think a well-known modern poem must have several points:
(1), I feel that I don't moan, but I have real feelings.
(2) Refine beautiful language, not pile up gorgeous words.
(3) Personality
(4), ... The above three points? Ha ha laugh
I can't think of many. I am a fool who can't write modern poetry and dare not write it, hehe.
By the way, thank the landlord for giving me the best gift before, not because of sweetness, but because of dissatisfaction with some obscure poems, that's all.