Yu Guangzhong's Modern Poetry

Yu Guangzhong was born in 1928 in Yongchun, Fujian. Because his mother and wife are from Changzhou, he also calls himself Jiangnan. The following are Yu Guangzhong's modern poems, I hope you will like them!

Yu Guangzhong's Modern Poetry 1: The lonely Hu Qin of the blind fortune teller lengthened the afternoon.

There is not a customer in the streets;

He hugged Hu Qin and complained to dusk:

Walking empty for a day only earns loneliness!

He can clearly know the fate of others,

His own fate is being dragged:

A girl will spend the rest of her life with him,

A crutch tastes the ups and downs of his life!

1950. 1 1.8

Yu Guangzhong's modern poem 2: a tropical bird that inspires you to shine,

Happiness flies back and forth on my head,

Every time I break free,

Only one blue feather fell.

I picked it up and stuck it on the edge of my hat.

Pedestrians are surprised to see it.

Oh, how can I catch flying birds,

Let them see exactly like me!

1952. 10. 10

Yu Guangzhong's Modern Poetry 3: 1842 How fragrant and bright red the wine is!

So warm, slowly pouring into my chest,

My happy heart is full of summer nights in southern Europe,

Pregnant with the golden sunshine on the Mediterranean coast,

And the nightingale in Provence.

When slender fingers first pluck you from the branches,

Round and plump, full of life-threatening plasma,

Bai Langning and Elizabeth never eloped across the Strait.

But Mazzocca Island once lived in george sand and Chopin.

Shelley lies beside Keats' grave.

At that time, you hung on the top of the grape trellis,

Gently swayed by the warm wind blowing from Africa on the other side;

At night, I silently look up at the starry sky in southern Europe.

Maybe someone will meet at the bottom of the frame and stare at the stars.

Suck on wine sweeter than my arms.

Maybe, ah, maybe there's a ripe grape,

Falling quietly because of the burden of honey juice,

Arouse the characters in the kiss and make them smile at each other.

Listen to who serenades in the distance and who is accompanying the guitar;

Life blooms on a warm and dense summer night.

But all this withered with that summer.

Thousands of miles away, a hundred years ago, someone else's past,

Who else knows except me, who is slightly drunk? Any other person

Can you recall which grave was buried with a pick?

The caress she would rather insist on is long gone!

Everything is gone except this magic cup in my hand.

It also hosted the Spring Festival Evening and summer morning in a foreign country a century ago!

Violet zombies have long decayed and turned to grass ash.

The blood left behind is still so bright red, and there is still a residual temperature.

To moisten the lips of oriental teenagers.

1955.9.29