Lonely country (1957)
Artemisia annua (1965)
Thirteen White Chrysanthemums (2002)
Dating (2006)
There is a Bird or Man (2009)
Poetry selection in the present (20 10)
In 1950s and 1960s, the poet started from meditation, chewed the darkness of life and set sail for his gentle imagination. The sadness that saints and mortals can't get rid of is condensed into Lonely Country and Huan Qingcao.
Thirteen White Chrysanthemums is a collection of works from 1970s to 1990s. The poet entered the "interior" of the world from the edge of the world, really sleeping and eating fireworks, and felt the cause of injustice in the world.
Dating contains the works of poets from the 1990s to the end of the last century, that is, things are human beings and things are human beings. It is a pleasure to become a butterfly.
There is a collection of birds or people in the new century, with simple and pure words, relaxed and humorous writing, and interesting and humorous leisure.
The Moment is the author's five-volume anthology of poetry, and it is also the earliest and only anthology of Dream Butterfly published in Chinese mainland this week.
Selected poems of Zhou Mengdie:
October
As certain and real as death.
You lie here. Draw on the cross
The moonlight is as white as acacia.
And the hooves of masked men are far away.
This god who steals dreams for a living stole them.
His face never wrinkles.
Dust and depression torment my eyebrows.
I hit my forehead. Don't forget.
This is October. All good things are good things.
Even the butterfly dream that comes to mourn every night is cold.
Yes, at least you have nothing.
You say. At least you already know what is what.
Yes, no smile is made of iron.
Not even tears.
tree
When light and shadow become fruits,
You will suddenly think of yesterday.
At that time, your face was even more beautiful than Yuan Ye.
Rain and snow don't come, woodpeckers don't come,
Even a little boring can torture yourself.
There is no such trouble as tentacles.
Is it fire? Or what drives you?
Break through this class? Cold and hard,
Do you hear the cries circulating in your veins?
"Let me be a leaf!
Let the frost turn red and the running water flow gently ... "
So when I woke up, I was green!
On a snowy night, you hear the cold.
The sound of bluebirds flapping their wings.
-
Four sentences
A firefly, turning the world.
From the black sea—
As long as there are half fireflies in front of us, you and me.
No right to cry and hang yourself.
Poetry and creation
God is dead, Nietzsche asked:
Who replaced it?
"Poet!"
The ghost of daffodils
Wilde rushed to the interface.
I want to know who is whose brother.
God and poetry were born in the same mother;
Ordinary hand-eyes, ordinary gas field;
Look, who is more lofty and who is more modest?
Who wants to sit on whose right?
There is a kind of bird or man.
There is a kind of bird or man.
Always laying eggs in other people's nests;
Even don, in short.
Put it in someone else's nest
As your own.
The next day, when all the major newspapers made headlines,
After the grand release of the first edition of the oversized font,
Our God won't even frown.
Look at his eyes, nose and heart and make him doze off-
I think this is the right thing to do!