This is the prose poem, "When the cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove ~ When the smoke of ashes sighed the sadness of poverty ~ I still stubbornly paved the way for disappointment."

This is a poem by the forefinger of a modern poet, which is called Believe in the Future. The original text is as follows:

When cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove,

When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty,

I still stubbornly spread the ashes of disappointment,

Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future.

When my purple grapes turn into dewdrops in late autumn,

When my flowers cling to other people's feelings,

I still stubbornly use frosted vines,

Write on the desolate land: believe in the future.

I'm going to wave the waves that rush to the horizon with my fingers,

I want to hold the sun in my hand,

The warm and beautiful pen flickers the morning light,

Write with a child's pen: believe in the future.

The reason why I believe in the future,

I believe that people's eyes in the future-

She brushed away the eyelashes of history,

She has a student who can read through the years.

No matter what people think of our rotting bodies,

Those lost blues, the pain of failure,

These are tears of emotion, deep sympathy,

Or give a contemptuous smile, bitter ridicule.

I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine,

Countless explorations, lost directions, failures and successes,

We will definitely give a warm, objective and fair evaluation.

Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments.

Friends, believe in the future,

Believe in indomitable efforts,

Young people who believe in overcoming death,

Believe in the future and love life.

Extended data:

I believe that the future is an obscure poem written by forefinger at 1968. Written in 1968, it was at the height of the Cultural Revolution. After the initial blind movement, the poet was rushed to the "vast world" in the countryside by the political wave, and he had some sober views on this political movement, especially his personal destiny during the Cultural Revolution. His once passionate and unpretentious ideal was washed away by the storm.

His heart is full of loss, confusion and sadness, but he is not willing to give up his ideals and hopes easily, so. The fierce conflict between hope and despair is revealed in his works. In such a chaotic and confused era, poets and people in the same situation deeply felt the tragedy of fate, and immediately wrote this poem with my encouragement, and kept their promise for tomorrow.