Said it was a modern poem.
But it has been many years.
Those poets.
They are the songs of the other shore.
-Poetry in Taiwan Province Province is in a specific social and historical environment.
Evolved a unique taste.
Blood is thicker than water.
Let's look at them at that time:
Ji Xian, Qin Zihao and Zhong Dingwen are the three great poets in Taiwan Province.
Ji Xian said:
-& lt； :
The moon blackened by smoke from factories, trains and ships.
Does not belong to Li Bai;
In my little telescope:
Upper chord, lower chord,
When there is a surplus, when there is a deficit,
Or occasionally and briefly covered by the huge shadow of the earth.
The moon doesn't belong to Li Bai either.
Li Bai died, and so did the moon, so we came.
One day I will become a tree.
One day, I will become a tree:
My hair turned into leaves; Two legs became roots;
Two arms and fingers turned into branches; Ten toes became roots,
Stretch in the soil and absorb nutrients and water.
One day, I will become a tree.
I may have some very fragrant white flowers,
Bear a few red fruits, which will prolong life.
But I don't breed, I don't breed, I'm an exception.
I may grow taller, taller than I am now, almost like an ordinary tree.
It is not a dwarf tree, nor is it a towering old tree.
I will never be transplanted to Eden,
Because I am a tree that God doesn't like.
Qin Zihao said:
-& lt； The sower of poetry >
Imprisoned himself in a small room
There is a vast world in the room.
There is a song of the century in my ear.
There is a burning fire in my chest.
Project your ideals on white paper.
Sow the seeds of fire in the square.
The seeds of fire are stars all over the sky.
They all fell on the dark earth.
When the seeds of fire illuminate the human mind
He will die smiling.
Zhong Dingwen said:
-& lt； Three Gorges >
River of no return,
A Wan Li is full of talk. ......
Stretching out the arms of a hundred ape rivers,
Open the claws of the five lakes;
That great power,
Thanks for this section of bee waist.
It's cold, and I feel that the mountains on both sides are high.
In the middle of the night, I saw the little moon in the sky;
There are eternal ichthyosaurs jumping in the waves,
The sad apes in the past no longer crow,
But the whistle sounded when crossing the beach,
Just as charming.
I've been here several times,
I always think of the ancient "jam" every time;
Surging waves, from Qutangxia to the east,
Just like the military forces of the Han family, from Yumenguan to the west,
Sounds like I've always thought of-
Cetto, Ma Xiaoxiao ......
Their poems belong to the beauty of that era, as Yang said a confession:
My faith can't be imprisoned in the Vatican cellar.
Counterfeiters are always afraid of basking in the sun.
On the day of examination and approval, the prodigal son climbed home.
If the wheat doesn't die, where can we collect the land and grain?
Poetry will not die, just as wheat will not die.
There are only some poems we call death.
Will beautiful flowers bloom all over the mountains?
So I thought of a spring river and a bright moon on the river.
Scenery flowing through mountains, forests and grasslands
It has been sowing a seed from here and flowing to the harvest of another seed.