On the Art of Poetry 1: The Art of Poetry
Poetry, broken mouth, I looked out the window at the headlights shining back and forth in my eyes, and I evolved a spell that my ancestors were like marble. There are fruits, flowers and red leaves on the tree, and the original season remains the same. At the beginning, an old friend, you and I, drank wine by the moon or tied a rope by the lonely song of the sunset, and artistically lived a morning glory in this spring, which opened on the fence and the cicada hung on the windowsill of grandma's house.
Memories are all about the past, the past is all about memories, what has not arrived is the future, and the future has not yet arrived ... There are some differences between thinking and man-made, and there are great differences between unexpected and non-man-made ... flustered but not chaotic, calm but uncertain, flustered and calm, confused ... black and white, from black to white, from beginning to end, from black to white.
What is discarded is useful and useless, and what is taken is useless and useful ... It is flat, upside down, but uneven, but it does not turn over ... There is joy in joy, sorrow in sorrow, joy in laughter, and regret in bitterness ... Everything has become a memory, and recalling it all ... The more I think about it, the more tired I think about it, the more difficult I think about it, the more I think about it. ......
What you have can make up for what you have lost, what you once owned, what you lost don't want to have, and what you lost doesn't matter ... Time goes forward, time goes with the wind, and time passes together ... What you think is your point of view, which can be wrong or right, and there is no right or wrong ... If you think too much about the past, you will stay in the past and think too much about the future.
Slow Dance of Butterflies is a flower cat who left the program this spring. That true feeling, the original avoidance, made Yi's eyelids lose their childhood virginity. I watched helplessly. The skin of the old pomegranate tree in the hospital was still hanging on the wall, and there were three sparrows on it. I was shocked when I saw it. This morning, Li Mang, I went out to look for it with that young man. What is lost in the leisurely clouds? In the past, I was dreaming.
Modern Poetry 2: The Art of Writing
What you have learned is clever in its beauty ... smooth and abnormal, natural and sudden ... it depends on letting nature take its course, and what is important is nature ... people depend on people, strength depends on strength, and heart depends on heart. ......