He is a very talented person. With countless fairy-tale ideas. I am very happy with him. He always talks to you in poetic language, and then looks at you with clear eyes. Sometimes you think he didn't lie about his age. He is so kind that he has all the advantages of a poet.
Reading his poems, we can see a deep love-for relatives, friends and lovers. Simply put, it is touching. I am addicted to his poems, those hazy images and sad words over and over again.
Tired Wandering and Lonely Homecoming —— Reading Gu Ye's Poems
Every poet is mysterious. When I read poetry, I think of the reflection of the author's life. Indeed, a poem expresses the poet's feelings at that time, and the feelings come from life. Many poets love to record the years with poems, including Haizi, who has long passed away. Now, the female scholar Xi Murong ... and these people all have a sad temperament.
Reading Gu Ye's poems, I feel that he is such a poet. He once published a biased article The Poet:
"Poets don't want to hurt people, but they are easily hurt.
After the injury, I quietly raised my pen, tried hard to find the exact language, explored the origin of the injury word by word, described the silent and tortuous Zheng Lu, and called for a shy soul that was hidden. "
I think he is a wounded poet.
His poems can be divided into two categories in content: homesickness; Youth.
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Of course, there are few works in the first category, and I can only find two: The Return of the Prodigal Son and I'm just a child.
extravagant
I forgot the way home.
When I am lost in the distance,
My dream has always been:
Bound to the same land;
Attachment to the same sky.
A baby in a mother's arms;
Running in the wheat field in childhood;
Teenagers playing by the river. ......
Diluted by years,
Leaving only vague memories.
Ten years, ten years!
I've been looking for you.
From one mountain to another,
From one city to another,
Covered with my footprints and shouts!
I don't remember what the old house looked like.
Maybe the swallow knows,
They live there every year,
Reproduction,
for generations .......
When the autumn wind blows all over the country,
My thoughts rolled over and over again;
When the cuckoo sings in the early morning,
I heard a deep call:
Come back, come back. ........
I am a child.
Although you are not far from me.
probably
I'm just a kid looking for a dream.
Because children can't live without their mothers.
therefore
Your face always floats in my heart.
It's been years.
Didn't go back to see your scenery
In the years in different places
I always miss your sky.
Miss your wilderness
The setting sun is reflected in the river.
On the screen of memory
Cooking smoke is your most beautiful canvas
Like a river.
Your blood
Quietly flowing
Flowing into my thoughts and worries
I like the spring rain in different places.
It is constantly inlaid with my mood.
On this night
Your wind is blowing in the sky again
real
I'm just a kid.
This is a daily - happened thing.
I heard your affectionate call.
In the twilight
You have tears in your eyes.
Under the golden willow in the morning
You are waiting quietly.
Swallows contain your tears.
The autumn wind blew away your hair.
Can't stand the blowing and dancing of the years
All the fallen leaves have returned to their roots.
On a soft moonlit night
Still silent with a wandering heart
Although you are not far from me.
probably
I am still lying in your arms
Because I can't hear your heartbeat.
therefore
I think you are far away.
The two capitals compare their hometown to their mother. Moreover, I think the former is a very excellent work, which completely expresses emotions with art. At the beginning, I mentioned: "I forgot the way home." I don't think he can forget it, just because his hometown is too heavy in his heart and suddenly falls far away, so there is no way anymore. From the following sentence, "When I am lost in the distance/My dream is always connected to the same land/connected to the same sky." You can see the weight of your hometown in your heart. He loves the land and sky of his hometown so much. The second paragraph is a euphemism for growing up in my hometown. It can be seen that the author's life when he was young was full. Mother's arms, wheat fields and river banks are indifferent, but they are all in memory. "Ten years, ten years!" Not only the beginning of the third paragraph, but also the end of the second paragraph. A distance of ten years can dilute everything. But in the ten years of change, the poet has been looking for it. Why is this? Because a homesick prodigal son wants to go home. As the last paragraph says, "I heard a deep call/come back, come back ..." "From one mountain to another,
"From one city to another" is the poet's wandering footprint. The center of the fourth paragraph is the swallow, which seems so peaceful to everyone living in the countryside. This passage embellishes the details in the whole poem The last paragraph has a certain sublimation in emotion. Autumn wind, fallen leaves return to their roots; Cuckoo calls, the harvest season, but at this time the poet is still wandering, and the voice he hears is: "Come back, come back …". In fact, he wants to go back, and wandering is already very tired.
I think these two songs are very successful.
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Everyone's youth should be love, and Gu Ye is no exception. His poems clearly reflect the development of his love, which can be roughly divided into five stages: knowing love, falling in love, losing, waiting and returning home. Because of the poet's melancholy character, it is the latter two stages that really leave traces in life.
May the sky
I stared at the sky.
Looking for the destination I love
Hope-
From the other side of the sky
Find my flying heart
I shouted at the sky.
Call for the soul I love
Hope-
From the other side of the sky
There is an echo I prayed for.
I listen to the sky.
I really like it.
Hope-
From distant cosmic rays
Get her sincere response
I smile at the sky.
Praise the charm of my love
Hope-
From distant cosmic rays
Walk into my boiling life
The moonlight at night is as soft as water.
I stretched out my hands.
A place closer to heaven
Pray:
The last thought becomes the cloud of tomorrow.
The author should have been young when he wrote Mayday. He was fourteen or five years old and loved beans in full bloom. Love is still a mystery to him. He looked at the sky and pinned his love on it. He believes that love is a destination.
This poem is limited to overlapping words. What is valuable is the vast imagination space and ordinary body movements: staring, shouting, listening and smiling. He found a girl's love in this way. Maybe he didn't confess, because he is
Moonlight is soft in the watery night, praying that the last thoughts will turn into tomorrow's clouds. He should be a timid person.
In addition, the change of the format of the last paragraph of the poem brings a sudden freshness to the readers. )
The poet was also ecstatic about love. We can get the answer from waiting forever:
Wait forever
Please love God and give you a beautiful name.
Green hills
I am destined to be a small river.
Surround you
Quietly flowing
Until eternity passes.
Even if I dry up
The soul will beg God.
Turn me into a white cloud
Floating above you
Waiting forever.
Give me a lifetime of reincarnation.
A poet said that sad people are the most romantic. The same is true of ancient leaves. He begged for love and waited forever. Poetry at this time is very shallow, like a river that bypasses the green hills, flowing quietly; Also like white clouds floating on the green hills, endless reincarnation, passed down from generation to generation. No matter how time flies, each other is as beautiful as a castle peak.
Dedication of youth
I spent so many days with you.
In silence
Walking through the blooming flowers in spring
Children's smiles through summer
Walking through the golden fields in autumn
Walking through the sacred memory of winter
Walk through the footsteps of youth and happiness
Years are evaporating our faces.
Maybe I haven't told you my love yet.
Please believe.
My quiet heart is for you every day.
Pray:
You are a angels in white.
Show it in my life.
May the years with you never die.
The years of love depend entirely on this. Those days: spring flowers, Xia Shu, autumn leaves, winter snow. Everything is sweet, and the poet just prayed quietly in the face of it: "You are a white angel/spread in my life/may the years with you never die". Don't need too many words, love is deep.
This poem is very similar to Xi Murong's The Clothes of Youth.