Ai Qing's Modern Poems 1: Land of Resurrection
Decadent days
Has sunk to the bottom of the river,
Let running water wash it.
Leave almost no trace;
Heshanshang
Where the footsteps of spring pass,
Flowers and grass are everywhere;
From the jungle over there
It came out, too.
A bird loyal to the season
Sing loudly.
Sowers
It's time to sow,
Work hard for us.
The earth will multiply.
Gold particles.
At this moment,
What about you? Sad poet,
Should also brush away the melancholy of the past,
Let hope wake up in your own heart.
A long-broken heart:
Because, the land where we died,
Under the clear sky
Has been resurrected!
? Suffering has also become a memory,
In its warm chest
Re-vortex
Will be the blood of the combatants.
Ai Qing's Modern Poetry II: Hope
Dream friend
Fantasy sisters
That's my own shadow.
But always walk in front of you
As invisible as light.
As unstable as the wind.
Between her and you
There is always a distance.
Like a bird outside the window.
Like clouds in the sky
Like a butterfly by the river
Cunning and beautiful.
You go up, she flies.
If you ignore her, she will kick you out.
She will always be with you.
Until you stop breathing
Ai Qing's Modern Poetry III: The Past Years
Unlike lost luggage.
You can get it back at the lost and found office.
Lost Years
I don't even know where I left it.
Some have disappeared in dribs and drabs.
Some have been lost for ten or twenty years,
Some are lost in the noisy city,
Some are lost in distant wasteland,
Some are crowded stations,
Some are under abandoned small oil lamps;
What is lost is not like a piece of paper, you can pick it up.
More like a bowl of water spilled on the ground.
It is dry and has no shadow;
Time is a flowing liquid?
Cann't afford to salvage with a sieve or net;
Time cannot become a solid,
If only it were a fossil,
Even tens of thousands of years ago, I could find it in the rocks.
Time is like a gas,
Like smoke from the front of a speeding train!
The lost years are like a friend,
Isolated from the world, suffered some hardships,
Get news suddenly; Say that he
Long gone.
Ai Qing's modern poem 4: I love this land
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This endless wind,
And the tender dawn from the forest?
? And then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply?
Selected works of Ai Qing's modern poems;
1. Selected modern poems
2. Ai Qing's modern poems
3. Ai Qing's Complete Works of Modern Poetry
4. Appreciation of modern poetry
5. Ai Qing's patriotic poetry reading