Who has some modern China poems, the more the better! Okay?

Yu Guangzhong (1928-) 1954 founded "Blue Star Poetry Society" with Qin Zihao and Zhong Dingwen, and edited "Blue Star Poetry Magazine". His published poems include Elegy of Zhou Zi (1952), Association of Lotus (1964), The Age of the Cold War (1969), White Jade Bitter Melon (1974) and Bauhinia.

My solidified Chicago Xiluo Bridge is the river of no return. White jade and bitter gourd are buried in the wind curtain at the Mid-Autumn Festival night. In the third season, I will wait for you in the rain, homesickness, the fairy play of Yuantong Temple and Dinghu Lake, Li Bai's memorable piccolo at dusk, and the night is like a net to find Li Bai's spring. So I think of moonlight, spider webs, cuckoos, so-called eternal green grass, and ask the lamp for candles. In January, the next date,

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Chicago

Okumo in the new world is at the forefront.

In the center of the dense net, small insects devour astronomical figures.

Digest it with its venom.

I jumped in and fell into the net—

One is subtropical.

Indigestible

Golden beetle

Civilized beasts, skyscrapers crush us.

With three-dimensional indifference, with sinister geometry

Press me, there are many zeros after the number.

Press me, press me, but keep pressing.

Floating in the gray eyes of strangers

Look west at the horizon.

Lost in the steel canyon, the sun sets early-

He is going to have a picnic in the South China Sea at dawn.

The baton in the bell tower provoked the prelude of dusk,

Vaguely, from Michigan, melancholy and sad.

Jazz came and the street lights turned on in clusters.

The color wind is rolling, and the crazy century is formed-

Sin is maturing, there are snakes and eve in the nightclub,

And the black cat barked and drowned God in the cup.

And the forbidden area of history, in front of the serious art museum,

Persians on the Great Wall are keeping vigil.

The blind lion is watching the vigil,

Wandering in the age of the threshold building, afraid to set foot,

High stone steps.

The nineteenth century woke up, the Renaissance woke up,

Delacroix woke up, Rodin woke up,

Many souls are sleepless, whispering and listening,

Listen-

Outside, the noise of the collapse of the twentieth century.

1958

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My solidification

Here, in international cocktails,

I'm still a piece of ice that refuses to melt-

Always keep the temperature below zero.

And the hardness of the solid.

I am also very mobile.

It is also easy to move and boil.

I like playing the rainbow slide.

But the sun in China is too far away from me

I am crystalline, transparent and hard.

And cannot be automatically restored.

1959