Zhang Zao s 5 poems丨Beidao called him a genius of contemporary Chinese poetry .

Mondo Culture Updated on 2024-01-28

Zhang ZaoHe is an outstanding poet who is "prolific", his precise and sensual poetry, and his wonderful hand of integrating and inventing Chinese and Western poetry, has been popular among countless poetry lovers, and is called "the genius of contemporary Chinese poetry" by the poet Beidao.

Snow at duskA storm that they didn't know yet, they suddenly broke away from it, they waited by your side for a long time, waiting for you, the person who was thinking about other things, to go to the places you had changed, they changed and changed, it seems that you must be wrong, they knew those things, such as going to this moment, dinner may be a common thing, fatigue, Shaoxiu's and those babies should provide for an inexplicable hero, and these eyebrows and deletions should be the same as the decay house into the dark dust, really, he is different from everyone else, he is luckier than anyone else, he got up from the place where everyone was sleeping and mastered the core of the dream, if everyone Xi is used to the wine and lamp, which good doctor is welcomeHe's going to be in the middle of the storm, really, everybody's history looks like one person heals another, no one exceptions, and no one day is different, you see him coming over at this time, like a concentration of all the endings and potentials, and he's also a man who still suffers, and you're going to recognize him for his outstanding appearance

The story of late autumnA few days to the late autumn, I will accept her terrifying back, she said, Jiangnan is like a tree, the scenery in front of me will begin to bear fruit;Oh, the kind of season she said seemed to be facing someone who was going upstream, flowering, and crossing the arch bridge of oath, and falling a leaf, knowing that it was the old people around me in the year of Jiazi, rising like chrysanthemums, falling to the ground, and the place of lovers encroaching on other places, she said that Jiangnan was like her hairstyle, there was no rainy day, and the pieces of paper were folded into milk swallows, and I gradually climbed the clear ladder, there were railings in the lines of poetry, and the map in front of me began to drift away, converged, I cleaned up the fallen flowers with my fingers, and chanted my name over and over again, as if I would pass through Jiangnan with many small stone bridges one dayAs the cuffs of her silent ears passed by, and the whole place looked out on her face, perhaps we would not alarm the old men, who rose like chrysanthemums, clear and fragrant

The first snowflakes on the South ShoreI dreamed of the first snow on the south bank in this house, lonely as milk, white fingers hanging down like a bird that had been shot, you moaned out of a bunch of rice fields, the red horse on the railroad tracks, a kind of unexpected luster, from then on, the still life was stained with a sick little square, the small square, you danced for the first time, your arms were wronged current, a post station, a plum blossom, a long pavilion for ten miles, a short pavilion for five miles, the railroad tracks were replaced with rails, the red horse was sweaty, and it was picturesque, a dusk, a snowflake melted, a new leaf, a new leaf, a new leaf, the first snowflake on the south bank, the first memory of the future

...... in the name of a friendIn the name of a friend, I drank this wine, in the name of a friend, I threw this card and asked me to throw it into the painful southern sky, in the name of a friend, you went to and fro in the mirror, and walked through my living room or flowering garden, and you carried fruits, blades, and other things in your pockets, and in the name of your friend, you looked at my trumpet-like eyes, and blew me with your eyes, and you blew me in embarrassment, and in the name of your friend, you took me with your right hand, and ate me with your mouth, and still had my heart in your ears, and the embers that still remained, in the name of your friend, I saw you wandering at the city gates before the thunderstorm of the umbrella, and waiting for me, and let me not call your surname in the name of my friend, but only to reveal their subtle meanings: One is the appearance of the boat leaning against the pier;One is the way everyone hides at home;One is the wheels of a small bridge

This is how our hearts are to be opened to the worldOur hearts are to be opened to the world in this way: it picks at the paper and pen of fate, the heartbeat of the heart is as critical as the tongue of a tiger, it never sipps the water that is figuratively contained in the glass, so that the heart reflects a world that is equal to the poles, and when our hearts are opened in this way, we will see the invisible ship of the sea, the invisible ship that is being rescued by the more invisible but punctual plane, the world of the night is a little disgusting, because it is wrapped in a vicious gold and mist, it dresses itself up as a dinosaur skeleton, it is a towering spiral staircase, all the forms have a disgusting side, think of the earsCigarettes, bottles and bullets, or the house, the chimney on the back of the fire and the door lock and key opposite the mirror are rotting, like a pair of lewd ghosts, think about the food made of corpses, and the food is still flying in the water of the moon and the river, and the wood is as mature as the lamp on the wood that hurts terribly, so our hearts should treat the world like this: write down what flies, what flies is not sweet, but it is honey, remember the world, as if it was about to fly, write down a punctuation, wandering wine, write down the motherland and willows, turn decay into magic, our hearts should bless the world like a little bee to spring.

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