In front of these works, I realized what it is to stay at the top of the mountain. Whether you like poetry or not, as long as you speak Chinese as your mother tongue, these works are worth reading carefully.

Any wonderful language will become pale and powerless in front of these works. I can only strongly recommend:

First, the tenth song, Yu Guangzhong's "Waiting for You in the Rain":

Waiting for you in the rain, in the rainbow rain.

The cicada falls and the frog rises.

A pool of red lotus is like a red flame in the rain.

It doesn't matter whether you come or not, but do you think

Every lotus is like you.

Especially through the dusk, through the drizzle.

Eternity, instant, instant, eternity

Waiting for you outside time and within time,

Waiting for you, in an instant, in eternity.

If your hand is in my hand, at this moment.

If your qingfen

In my nostrils, I would say, little lover.

No, this hand should be picking lotus, in the Wu Palace.

This hand should be

Shake a handle of cinnamon pulp on Mulan boat.

A star hangs on the cornice of the science museum.

Hanging like an eardrop

Swiss watch says it's seven o'clock, and suddenly you come.

Red-violet after the rain, Pian Pian, there you are.

Like a poem.

You come from a love story.

From Jiang Baishi, rhymes, there you are.

I have read many comments on this poem, and what impressed me the most was a wonderful passage about the science museum and Swiss watches, which was said to be a combination of classical and modern. However, personally, the appearance of these two images may be the only failure of this poem, and the combination of suit and melon hat makes people feel uncomfortable.

Second, the ninth time, Lin's "Laughter":

Her eyes, her lips,

There is a circular vortex on the lips.

As beautiful as dew,

A bright smile.

Hiding in the shining shell teeth.

It was a smile-God's smile, a beautiful smile:

The reflection of water, the light song of the wind.

Laughing at her loose curly hair,

Scattered in her ear.

Soft as a flower shadow,

Itchy sweetness

Into your heart.

It was a smile-a poetic smile, a picturesque smile:

Traces of clouds, soft waves of waves.

It is said that Xu Zhimo began to write poems because he admired this talented woman. However, Lin finally chose Liang Sicheng, and later many people knew the name because of this allusion. I don't think a name that can write such a work needs to be recited by allusions.

Third, the eighth song, Fei Ming's "Star":

The stars in the sky,

It is said to be eternal spring flowers.

The shadow of begonia flowers on the east wall,

The star cluster says this is the eternal autumn moon.

Waking up in the morning is a winter night dream.

Last night's midnight star,

Wipe the net bright and beautiful,

Sparse without losing,

The same is true of spring flowers and autumn moons.

Children are not fish.

Feng Wenbing incorporated his beloved Lao Zi and Zhuang Zi into his poems, and his thoughts flowed everywhere in his works. Compared with him, those so-called philosophical poems are not in the same class at all.

The fourth and seventh songs, Bian's "The Chapter":

You stand on the bridge and watch the scenery.

The landscape man is watching you upstairs.

The bright moon decorated your window,

You decorated other people's dreams.

This one is the most famous among all the works with the theme of broken chapters. But many authoritative critics' explanations are different from the author's own.

The fifth and sixth songs, Zheng Chouyu's "mistakes":

I walked through Jiangnan.

The appearance in the season is like the opening and falling of lotus flowers.

If the east wind does not come, catkins will not fly in March.

Your heart is like a little lonely city.

Like a bluestone street facing the night.

The sting doesn't ring, and the curtain doesn't open in March.

Your heart is a small closed window.

My dada horseshoe is a beautiful mistake.

I am not a returnee, I am a passer-by. ...

Perhaps this mistake is not only said to the people in the window, but also to passers-by, because it is not him who is waiting in the window. Many of Zheng Chouyu's poems are worth reading, especially Mistress.

Sixth, the fifth "Dead Water" by Wen Yiduo:

This is a backwater of despair,

The breeze doesn't move at all.

Why don't you throw more rubbish,

Throw out your leftovers.

Maybe copper will turn green into jade,

A few petals of peach blossoms are embroidered on the tin can;

Let greasy weave a layer of Luo Qi,

Mold steamed some clouds for him.

Let the stagnant water ferment into a ditch of green wine,

Full of pearl foam;

Little beads' laughter turned into big beads,

I was bitten by a flower mosquito who stole wine again.

A desperate backwater ditch,

And a little image.

If frogs can't stand loneliness,

Dead water again. It is singing.

This is a backwater of despair,

This is definitely not the beauty,

Why don't we leave it to ugliness to cultivate,

Look at the world he created.

Only such a person can write such a work.

Seven, the fourth song, Feng Zhi's "Snake":

My loneliness is a long snake,

Cold with nothing to say-

Girl, in case you dream about it,

Don't be afraid!

He is my faithful companion,

With warm homesickness in my heart:

It's thinking about the dense grassland,

-

Thick black silk on your head.

It's as light as moonlight,

Sneak past you;

Catch your dream for me,

Like a crimson flower.

Feng Zhi is called "the most outstanding lyric poet in China" by Lu Xun, and only he can write such works. His southern night was too good to say anything.

Eight, the third song, He Qifang's "Prediction":

This heartbeat day has finally arrived.

The footsteps of the sighing night are approaching.

I can't hear the whispers of leaves and the night wind clearly.

The graceful hoof sound made by elk when they galloped on the moss path.

Tell me, tell me with your bell.

Are you a young god in prophecy?

You must come from the warm south,

Tell me the moonlight there, the sunshine there,

Tell me how the spring breeze blows open the flowers.

How swallows are infatuated with Populus davidiana.

I will fall asleep in your dreamy singing,

I seem to remember that warmth, but I seem to forget it.

Please stop, stop your tired running,

Come in, there's a tiger mattress for you to sit on.

Let me burn the fallen leaves I pick up every autumn,

Listen to me sing my own song in a low voice.

That song will be as gloomy and high as fire,

Tell me about my fiery life.

Don't go forward, there is an endless forest ahead.

The ancient trees are marked by wild animals,

Twisted like a half-dead rattan python,

There is not a star in the thick leaves.

You will be too timid to let go of the second step,

When you hear the empty echo of the first step.

Do you have to go? Please wait for me to go with you.

My feet know every safe way,

I can keep singing the songs I forgot,

I will give it to you, I will give it to you.

The night cut us off,

You can look me in the eye in the blink of an eye.

You didn't listen to my exciting song,

Your feet won't stop because of my trembling,

Like a quiet breeze blowing through this dusk,

Disappeared, lost your proud steps. ...

Ah, you are finally as speechless as you predicted.

Young God, can't you speak when you die?

What is the limit of gorgeous language? Here it is. Of course, there are his dream songs and garlands.

Nine, the second song, Dai Wangshu "Rain Lane":

Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone

Wandering in the long, long

Lonely rain lane,

I hope to see

Like cloves.

A girl with a grudge.

She has the color of lilacs,

Lilac-like fragrance,

Sad as cloves,

Mourning in the rain,

Sadness and hesitation;

She lingers in this lonely rain lane,

Hold an oil-paper umbrella

Like me,

Like me.

Walking silently,

Cold, sad, melancholy.

She approached silently and threw it again.

Breathing eyes

She drifted like a dream,

As sad and confused as a dream.

Floating like a dream

A lilac field,

I passed this girl by;

She went away silently, far away,

A crumbling fence,

Walk through this rainy path.

In the lamentation of the rain,

Remove her color,

Eliminate her fragrance,

Disappeared, even hers

Breathing eyes,

Lilac is melancholy.

Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone

Wandering in the long, long

Lonely rain lane,

I hope to float over.

Like cloves.

A girl with a grudge.

The rhythm of new poetry is the first and the first classic in new poetry. His works are much better. Come and have a look if you are interested.

Ten, the first song, Xu Zhimo's Farewell to Cambridge:

I left quietly,

When I came softly;

I waved gently,

Say goodbye to the western clouds.

Golden willow by the river,

Is the bride in the sunset;

Shadows in the waves,

Ripple in my heart.

Green grass on the soft mud,

Oily, swaying at the bottom of the water;

In the gentle waves of He Kang River,

I would like to be an aquatic plant!

A pool in the shade of elm trees,

Not a clear spring,

It is the rainbow in the sky that is crushed in floating seaweed.

Precipitate a rainbow-like dream.

Looking for dreams? Lift a long pole,

Back to the greener grass,

Full of stars,

Play songs in a starry place.

But I can't play songs,

Quiet is a farewell flute;

Summer insects are also silent for me,

Silence is Cambridge tonight.

I left quietly,

Just as I came quietly;

I waved my sleeve,

Don't take away a cloud.