Poetry, in my impression, is always like a noble masked girl, with an expression that is sometimes slightly smiling and sometimes a bit melancholy. She is very profound and can see through you at a glance, but you cannot figure her out. Therefore, I always have a vague understanding of poetry.
However, Bing Xin's "Stars Spring Water" gave me a different feeling.
The words "Flowers in the corner/When you are alone and admiring yourself/The world becomes smaller" seemed to make me see a small white flower swaying beside the old mossy wall, perhaps admiring myself. "If life is boring/I am afraid of the next life/If life is interesting/I am satisfied in this life", it always makes me think. After experiencing it, I know that if life is as light as a feather, I will not love this life; if life is as heavy as I am willing to live in Mount Tai for a thousand years. Sometimes I think about the state of "I am lying in my mother's arms/my mother is in the boat/the boat is..." This state is really enviable.
Every little poem, every line of poetry, has its own meaning. Like little elves with their own thoughts. If you don't ask it and carefully examine its heart, then it means nothing and it is just a casual look. As long as you are willing to ask it, it will open its heart to you and act like a human being. communicate with you. As I read, I realized that I was not reading, but discussing with others. I once heard a famous saying, which basically goes like this: "A book is a friend who will talk to you heart-to-heart." No wonder so many people from ancient times to the present have made books their friends, becoming "bookworms" and "poetry addicts". No wonder Xiang Ling in "A Dream of Red Mansions" writes poems in her dreams.
After reading many poems, I always find that each small poem seems to be classified. Sometimes the poem is like a child, cute, innocent and lively; sometimes it is like a gentle mother who will advise. , more encouraging; sometimes it is a young man with his own ideals; sometimes it is an object in nature, whether a flower or grass, that will deform. Some people always feel that "Stars and Spring Water" is too childish and too lazy to write a whole poem. But only the scattered poems are like the stars in the sky, each with its own sparkle, like spring water, gentle and never finished.
"Stars·Spring Water" tells me very few truths, but it gives me little stars in the sky; it does not have the ups and downs of heroism, but it gives me spring streams and makes me I was able to regain my innocence and nature under the stars and by the spring water...