I didn't like ancient poetry very much when I was a child. It seems that such a profound and fast-paced society is so out of place. As if "when I was a child, I didn't understand the moon, so I called it Bai Yupan". But with the passage of time, I learned to feel the world in poetry. I think of heaven and earth, with no limit and no end. My heart suddenly becomes so heavy, and the smoke of history suddenly fills the whole sky, as if yesterday's world resurfaced. In that world, there is leisure and indifference of "picking chrysanthemums under the hedge and seeing Nanshan leisurely" ~ In that world, there is bleak and desolation of "the old country is surrounded by mountains and the tide is lonely and empty". In that world, there are "people have joys and sorrows, and the moon has ups and downs." In that world, there is "moonlight in the pine forest, crystal stone in the stream" elegance and ease. In that world, I can make a cup of fragrant tea and read the most beautiful wisdom in the world. Yes, poetry is the most beautiful philosophy. Here, I learned "but you can broaden your horizons by going up one flight of stairs". Here, I understand "I don't know the true face of Lushan Mountain, but toward which corner of the mountain". Here, I understand that "the sea is difficult for water, and it will always be amber." Here, I heard "I smile at the sky with a horizontal knife, and I am afraid to leave two Kunlun mountains." Yes, the world in the poem is so beautiful, and the history is so deep and dark. But poets are not silent! Therefore, Fan Zhongyan, who once wrote "Everywhere in first frost, people are sleepless, and generals have white hair and tears", roared that "the world is worried first, and the world is happy later". Therefore, Du Fu, who once sang "Leaves fall like the foam of a waterfall, and I think the long river always rolls forward", lamented that "there are ten thousand buildings in the world, and the poor people in the world are happy!" The release of copper and iron plates is poetry. The preservation of Baal's flower board is also a poem. Gradually, the poetry in my eyes became blurred, and the vague poetry gradually merged into my vitality. Gradually, my life became poetic.