Great Power Army Reclamation

Ye Yuze asked curiously: "Don't you understand either?"

Zha Hongying shook her head and then said:

“You don’t need to understand good poetry! As long as you can resonate emotionally with the author!”

Ye Yuze shook his head. Is this a standard fanboy?

Everyone has heard their conversation. Obviously, everyone was slightly dissatisfied with this foreigner and child.

Mang Ke looked at Cha Hongying with some reproach. "Yingzi, don't bring irrelevant people here in the future."

Cha Hongying's face turned a little red at this time. She took out a piece of paper and handed it to Munk.

"It's not that he doesn't understand poetry, he also has good poetry!"

Mang Ke took it with some disdain, but after reading a few lines, he froze. He glanced at Ye Yuze hastily, and then looked down eagerly.

Ye Yuze doesn't dislike these people, especially this one named Mang Ke.

Obviously, this is a group of young people with ideals and pursuits, but he really didn't understand the poem just now. That's why David was asked to ask Cha Hongying.

Because Cha Hongying was so intoxicated at that moment.

At this time, the young man named Bei Dao said something.

"Mangke, read it out and let everyone listen to this wonderful poem!"

Mangke was stunned for a moment, and then he started to have feelings. Read it slowly.

Mang Ke's voice is very nice, a standard baritone.

1

Suddenly thought of what happened behind me

Write a few words to your son

.

In fact, cremation is the cleanest

It's just that we don't have it here.

Don't hold a memorial service

Here, no one understands my life.

….

As Mangke's voice slowly sounded, the hostility in the young people's eyes slowly faded.

Carve an epitaph on the monument

What are you carving? Let me think about it.

Just engrave the word "pain"

In this life, I have been holding back and not speaking out.

.

when chiseling

Tell the mason to be gentler.

"What a poem!"

Before Mang Ke finished reading, Bei Dao couldn't help shouting!

At this time, Mangke was already in tears!

After reading the poem, everyone here had wet eyes. How can anyone who likes poetry be cold-blooded?

Bei Dao couldn't wait to take the piece of paper and read it silently eagerly.

The people of that era were simple and honest, especially these young people who were obsessed with poetry. Although there is a saying that literature is not the best, they really like good works!

Compared to Mang Ke's sharpness, Bei Dao is much more honest and honest. Perhaps it was his character that allowed him to go further on this road.

"Little brother, who wrote this poem?"

Bei Dao grabbed Ye Yuze's hand and asked impatiently.

Ye Yuze wanted to make fun of the old man with white beard. But looking at these sincere eyes, he couldn't say anything.

After pondering for a while, he raised his head, looked up at the sky, and sighed:

"This man is not from this era! He is a veteran of our Corps!"

Bei Dao also sighed! "God is jealous of talents!"

Ye Yuze had a black streak on his head, but he couldn't explain anything.

"This is called poetry! This is called writing that shocks people's souls. Like a sharp knife, it pierces the heart and makes it bleed!"

"With such seniors here, what qualifications do our Baiyangdian poetry tribe have to not work hard?"

Ye Yuze's eyes narrowed, what the hell is this Baiyangdian poetry tribe?

Your hometown is Baiyangdian? Could it be that this Mang Ke is still a fellow countryman?

Seeing Ye Yuze's confused eyes, Bei Dao explained. It turns out that Mang Ke and several others had worked in the Baiyangdian countryside for several years, and that’s where they started writing poetry!

Only then did Ye Yuze understand the origin of this title.

Zha Hongying added with some admiration: "They live a very pure life. Bei Dao is a construction worker, and Mang Ke was a factory worker who quit his job to write poetry.

His father had a falling out with him over this matter and kicked him out of the house, so this guy made a living by doing odd jobs and often had too much to eat! "

Ye Yuze was a little in awe, but David didn't quite understand.

"Ye, why do you have to be kicked out of the house if you like poetry?"

Ye Yuze didn't know how to answer.

Mangke himself said:

"Poetry often cannot be exchanged for money, and even if it can be exchanged, it cannot sustain life!"

"Then why did you quit your job? Isn't it good to write poetry in your spare time?"

David's thinking still couldn't keep up with Munk's thoughts.

Mangke was stunned by this question and thought about it for a long time before speaking.

"Doing things I don't like will wear away the passion in my heart! Poetry requires passion! I don't want the roar of the machine to crush my dreams!"

David nodded, and the little foreigner seemed shocked by the answer.

We are all young people, who doesn’t have his own ideals? How should I live in the future?

At this time, a young man asked: "David, do you have any poetry in the United States?"

That era was relatively closed-off and I knew very little about foreign things. You can only hear some news from the radio.

Since Nixon's visit to China, Sino-Milan relations have been moving forward, otherwise David would not have been able to come to China.

"There are also many poets in the United States, the more famous of whom are Robert B. Lai. I still remember one of his poems."

waning moon

The moon was three weeks old and its light reached my father's farm,

It was half darkened, hanging in the western sky that was eating away at it.

The earth holds stones in its mouth, listen to their singing in the early morning.

I turned around and entered the house, and saw my shadow reaching for the door latch.

Mangke was shocked again, this is also a hazy poem. But this poem can indeed be read.

Moreover, the meaning in the words is very deep, as deep as a big burden weighing on your shoulders.

After another period of silence, David continued:

"Although his poem is thought-provoking, I still like another one, a poem written by an ordinary woman to her husband. Although her husband will never see it."

Remember the day I borrowed your new car?

dented it,

I think you're going to kill me.

But you didn't!

Remember that time I dragged you to the beach?

And it rained just as you said.

I thought you'd say "I told you so\

,"But you don't.

Remember that time I flirted with so many guys to make you jealous,

And you did.

I thought you would leave,

But you don't.

I remember that time I vomited strawberry pie all over the carpet,

I think you will definitely beat me,

But you didn't!

I remember that time I forgot to tell you that the dance was formal,

You showed up wearing jeans.

I thought you would abandon me,

But you don't.

yes! There are so many things you are not doing.

Just tolerate me, love me, protect me!

There are so many things I want to do for you,

Waiting for you to return from the battlefield,

But you didn't!

There was a long silence, only the sound of people breathing heavily!

Perhaps this poem may not even be called poetry in the eyes of academics, but is it really not poetry?

Experts can use classics to evaluate, but they cannot. Because they cried.

Please collect, recommend, vote and invest.

Regarding poetry, I am just a lover. So I am not qualified to evaluate anything.

I'm just explaining my point of view from an ordinary person's perspective.

A good poem is by no means a collection of gorgeous words, but words that can touch people's hearts.