The most beautiful classic modern poetry

Wen Yiduo

I'm coming, I shouted, blood and tears welled up in my eyes,

"This is not my China, no, no!"

I came because I heard you calling me;

Feng Gang whipped the time, lit the flame,

I came, I didn't know it was an empty joy.

What I met was a nightmare. Where are you?

It was a horror, a nightmare hanging on a cliff,

That's not you, that's not my love!

I questioned the sky and forced the wind to blow from all directions.

I asked, (punching the red chest on the ground,)

Always can't ask the news; I cry for you,

Spit out a heart, in my heart!

2. The dream of an ancient town

Bian Zhilin

There are two kinds of voices in town.

The same loneliness:

During the day, it was Gong, a fortune teller.

Bangzi at night.

You can't break other people's dreams,

Dream like a dream.

Blind people walking in the street,

Step by step.

He knows which stone is lower,

Which stone is tall,

How old are the girls?

Knock down other people's dreams

Dream like a dream.

The night watchman is walking in the street,

Step by step.

He knows which stone is lower,

Which stone is tall,

Which door closes the most tightly?

"Night, listen,

The cat's father

The child is so noisy that he can't sleep.

Always crying in my dreams,

Will you tell his fortune tomorrow? "It's late at night,

Another cold afternoon,

Knocking on the bridge,

The drummer crossed the bridge again,

The sound of running water under the bridge is constant.

3. On a cold night in the twelfth month.

peony

On the cold night of the twelfth month, strong winds swept across the northern plain.

The fields in the north are dry, and barley and millet are pushed into the village.

Years passed, the animals rested, and the river outside the village froze.

On the ancient road, there are lights flashing in the fields.

A thick, torn face,

What does he think? What does he do?

On the way to this squeaky wheel.

The wind blows to the east, the wind blows to the south, and the wind spins on the low street.

The wooden lattice windows were piled with sand, and we slept under the mud hut.

His son was so scared that he cried from roof to roof.

He will grow up and gradually lie down and snore like us.

The wind travels from one roof to another.

So big, so long,

We can't hear, we can't hear.

Is the fire out? Has the red charcoal fire gone out? A voice said:

Our ancestors have fallen asleep, sleeping not far from us,

All stories have been told, leaving only the remains of ashes.

In our dreams without comfort, after they walked around,

At the door, those people with old sickles,

Keywords hoe, yoke, stone mill, handcart,

Quietly, it is accepting the falling of snowflakes.

4. Pasternak

Jiaxin Wang

You can't present a bunch of flowers to your graveyard.

But I am destined to spend my whole life reading your poems.

Through thousands of miles of ice and snow

The beginning of the festival and the excitement of my soul.

I can finally write at will.

But you can't live as you please.

This is our tragedy.

Your mouth is more silent, that is

You can't tell the secret of fate.

Endure, endure, deepen the notch in the pen.

Give up in order to get it.

In order to live, you ask yourself to die completely.

This is you. You found me from one disaster after another.

Testing me suddenly made my life miserable.

From snow to snow, I was hit by mud in Beijing.

Reading your poems on the bus, I am in my heart.

Shout out those noble names

Those exiles, sacrifices, witnesses, those

The souls meet in the tremor of mass.

Those flashes of death, and mine

Your own land! Tears in the eyes of northern livestock

Maple leaves burning in the wind

How can I get enough of the darkness and hunger in people's stomachs?

Put these aside and talk about myself.

Just like you, you have to endure more violent snowstorms.

In order to save your Russia, your

Larissa, so beautiful, it won't hurt any more.

Your incredible miracle.

With the cold of snow, it is in front of us!

Autumn in Levitan by candlelight.

Death, praise and sin in Pushkin's poetic rhyme

Spring has come, and the vast land is bare and black.

Poet, turn your soul to all this.

This is bitterness, the highest way to rise from the bottom of my heart.

This is not pain, this is what you finally bear.

Still unstoppable, come to us.

Discover us: it requires symmetry.

Or a requiem that echoes more than the echo.

How can we get to your grave?

This is a shame! It's winter in December in Beijing.

This is the sadness, exploration and questioning in your eyes.

Like a bell, oppressing my soul.

This is pain, happiness, say it.

I need to fill my life with ice and snow.

5. terminal

Lin Yaode

...................., I

Lost in the sea of numbers

On the display

Line by line

Landing symbol

Like the curtain of the whole world.

Before the terminal

My thoughts dispersed into particles on the monitor.

Inside the terminal building

A sophisticated circuit is like a holy ark with wisdom hidden in it.

After working overtime, I walked in the street at midnight.

Those programs are still firmly embedded in the subconscious.

I can't pull it out.

I began to doubt that my body was not flesh and blood.

But rows and rows of integrated circuits.

I'm off duty.

People who have lost their memories.

Become a disconnected terminal

Any data and symbols

Like a group of broken galaxies.

continuously

ram

explosion

Step 6 ask.

Liu jiemin

Many people died in the water.

Many people are in the fire, in the mountains and in car accidents.

Beat some people all their lives.

Cold weather and famine caused

The character and life of others.

More people are lying in hospital beds.

The reason is unknown, but it already exists.

Symptoms of extreme poverty and boredom

There were others before I died.

Conscience discovery.

A person whose eyes are covered with ointment

What would you think-afraid?

Are you still happy? That's based on

The most primitive way to die.

Neons and wars sparkle in the distance.

What makes me laugh is myself.

Future generations, ask me questions (air)—

Will you wake up, you

Are you sleeping? Just like facing

Ignorant little animals will whisper like this.

7. Daughter

Huang canran

My little friend, my little magpie, my little alarm clock,

Her soul is flying everywhere, and the wings of fantasy are higher than the blue sky.

She said, "Dad," and her eyes sparkled with charm.

Then she stopped talking and continued to jump on the bed.

It seems that jumping is the responsibility of life, contempt for my stupid sitting.

She said, "Dad," this time with a smile on her lips,

Then she stopped talking and continued to sing her own songs.

The soul flew into the sky, I'm sure.

My problem children, naughty and reckless,

Her soul is really not with her, like a kite flying desperately.

I have to keep holding on to the line I want to break free,

Let her know that the earth is here and dad is here.

She said, "Dad," and her voice was dreamy.

Then he stopped talking and continued to jump on the bed.

It's like dad is her own head,

You have to touch it occasionally,

Or like a glass of water, drink it when you are thirsty and put it back.

"Dad," she kissed me quietly this time.

I'll feel happy knowing that her eyes are sharper than mine-

"Dad," she said, "shall we go to the park?"

Charming brilliance, sweet smile, dreamy voice,

The soul finally landed on the body, but it was about to take off again.

"Good," I said. How dare I refuse?

I am a happy father.

8. worry

Dai wangshu

It is said that it is the sorrow of lonely autumn.

They all say it's acacia in the far sea.

If someone asks me what I'm worried about,

I dare not say your name.

I dare not say your name,

If someone asks me what I am worried about:

They all say it's acacia in the far sea.

It is said to be the sadness of lonely autumn.

9. You are April.

Lin

I said you are the April day of this world.

Laughter lit up the surrounding wind; Lightweight and flexible

Dancing and changing in the splendor of spring.

You are the cloud on the first day of April.

The evening breeze is soft, and the planetesimals are there.

Unintentionally flashing, drizzle sprinkled in front of the flowers.

That's lightness, that's elegance, and you are, Xianyan.

You are wearing a crown of flowers, and you are

Naive and solemn, you are the full moon every night.

After the snow melts, the goose is yellow, and you are like; fresh

The first green bud, you are; Gentle and happy

Water floats with white lotus in your dreams.

You are a flower and a swallow in the tree.

Whispering between the beams, ── You are love, warmth,

It's hope, you are April day on earth!

10, Christmas snowfall

Zhang Shuguang

It's snowing. This Christmas,

Turned the whole city white.

I arrived from the post office on 14 street.

Central street, holding power.

There are books in the package, Wang Lu.

It was sent from Shanghai. But who is Wang Lu?

I was thinking. It's snowing harder,

At work this morning, I also told a colleague

Just like Christmas. at present

It becomes more real: I'm going to find my wife and daughter.

Choose a gift. "Are you ready for the present?"

My daughter asked on the phone. "Not yet.

What do you want? I said.

"If you know it, there will be no surprises." seemingly

She likes surprises. In our life,

No happiness, maybe only surprises,

But the store doesn't sell it. If you open one,

The company that sells surprises is sure to make a fortune.

Snow is white in the sky and reaches the ground.

It turned into mud. I walked with difficulty.

Imagine the little match girl, at this moment.

Maybe he is snuggling up to Andersen and looking at the angel.

Cut the roast goose with a knife, chorus

Dressed in white, singing carols to God.

But will she be surprised? Maybe this snow

This is an unexpected surprise, but many people

I don't think so, maybe including me.

Oh, snow, far and near, shining.

I'm in the store, careful.

One after another, choose surprises.