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Che Yangao: A poet who takes the pulse of an ancient style | chooses himself

Editor's Note On January 31, 2021, the Fourth National Member Congress of the Chinese Poetry Society was successfully held, and 170 people were elected as members of the Fourth Council of the Chinese Poetry Society. This WeChat public account will select the selected poems of directors and members on the basis of merit for the benefit of readers.

Che Yangao: A poet who takes the pulse of an ancient style | chooses himself

Che Yangao, origin: Laiyang, Shandong. He is a member of the Chinese Writers Association. His works include poems, essays, essays, novels, and reportage published in various newspapers and magazines. He is the author of the poetry collection "Days are The Mountains", "Waking up the Dawn", "Yearning for Warmth", "Che Yangao's Self-Selected Collection", "Inspiration Narrow Road Encounter", "Poetry Eyes SeeIng Wuhan", "Che Yangao's Selected Poems" and the prose collection "Drunken Eyes SeeIng Li Bai". The awards have been zeroed out, so always start from scratch.

Take the pulse of an ancient song

The car is high

endure

Forbearance is to bite one's lip with one's teeth

Swallow the pain

Forbearance is doomed to not shed tears in front of people

Mom said: Tears have knees

There is weight

Smashing on the ground is a pit of pain and kneeling

To learn to endure is to take responsibility

Carry the tears around

Fall, fall in no man's land

Heavy things hurt people

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The piano breaks

Do not examine the extent of the damage to the guqin

Just ask, is anyone wanting to fix it

The piano break is not only a place name of the past

It has an emphatic tone, waiting for a line of dialogue

Broken strings can be connected where they were broken

Yes, Zhiyin is dead, and there are still so many people to live

Why don't dexterous fingers exhort a rusty heart

The water flows forward, and the living should not be hurt by yesterday

Nor should a ghost make you reject someone who is alive

Tears suddenly woke up and fell from Chu Guo's eye sockets

The moon lake is full of the heaviness of the night, and the moon shadow combs the weeds

Bo Ya and Zi Zhi sat on the grave guarded by memory

The soul is clean, and the sleeves are fresh

The real symbol was flattened to dust

Cover everything

Now emptiness and existence are swords and sheaths that meet and laugh

The two hearts missed the contract and abolished the distance

The piano breaks, and your flowing water has rhymes

Tell a good story about a guqin thrown out

Listening, I know that today must be more important than yesterday

Bending over, I lifted the time up

Go to the guqin platform to pluck the strings and listen to the flowing water of the mountains

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Che Yangao: A poet who takes the pulse of an ancient style | chooses himself

Photo by Jiang Bohan

Orchid

The wind hummed a minor tune

Spring wiped her face with dew

Walk straight down from a wicker stick

The sake was shaken, and Orchid came out of the shop

She was beautiful, with her sideburns pinned to a cloud on the big green mountain

The green horse that Li Bai sat down did not leave

When pressing wine to persuade guests

She stepped out of the form of a line of red willows

Brilliant eyes. There are 100,000 acres of peach blossoms in bloom

Li Bai sat there

Today, he didn't drink a drop of wine

Already drunk

stonemason

Can be read from the silence of a stone

The mind of the mountain

The mason's temperament is as thick as the chiseled foundation

Get used to being buried at the bottom

They use hammers and chisels to find hardness, and the cocoon on their hands is the LOGO

Chisel out pillar piers, cornerstones, mendangs, stone lions and street stones

The man whom the stonemason valued would chisel a stele for him with bluestone

Use the weight of a mountain to carve, like carving a mountain

Someone asked a stonemason to chisel the highest monument in the world for him

The stonemason regards this person as a part of the chisel when chiseling

The stonemasons were busy all their lives and carved many monuments

But it was too late to engrave his own epitaph

When he fell

The hammer and chisel were tired and leaned against the wall

Don't talk

Salter

Look at the sea, just know

It was the salt workers who were exposed to the sun

Salt was a drop of the sun's sweat that rolled down their dark cheeks

One by one, they were salvaged from the bottom of the sea

The eyes have boiled out of the salt

If you don't cry, the tears will cry out in pain

The salt worker got used to hiding the bitter sea in his heart so that no one could see it

He stooped on his back

Above was a heavy day

It has been sewn by clouds countless times

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Che Yangao: A poet who takes the pulse of an ancient style | chooses himself

The wind is lazy. Sweep away the frost on the ground

The lights are extinguished at dawn

A few sleepy-eyed Chinese characters write sleepiness into the Shu Dao Difficulty

The pen was tired and panting

Sleep lying on a pen holder

A drop of ink crawled out of the west window and yawned

See how the sky leaves a blank slate for a poet's romance

The stars fade

The untalented cook smoke was a little hesitant

Like a wisp of beard asking about childhood

Naïve if toddler

Inspiration, how to walk

The golden bottle has become an antique, and there is a taste of drinking a moonlight

Li Baiduan sat in the annals of the Tang Dynasty

The hand that turns the book

Flower cake

The tip of the tongue is picky, and the taste buds have evolved to be ingenious

The funeral word is sad

It is gracefully groomed by the shadow of a hoe

Ouyang, who loves to eat flower cakes, disdains the flower heart and cultivates the rivers and rivers

Write all night, taste Lijiang flowers all night

The cake, which is thrillingly depicted by the moon

It should be a wonderful Shakespearean legacy

Windsor's merry wives are obsessed with love, and it is too late to dream

Just like the blossoming of flowers competing for the wind and jealousy

Forget the nationality, gender, forget the snowflakes do not know the flowers

Jade Dragon Snow Mountain is empathetic

Let the jade butterfly deny that the high place is not cold

He also drank Pu'er, Iceland, and Dayi to the point of being fragrant

Hypoglycemia evolved into a drug for acacia

The hand had just broken open the flower cake, in mid-air

The moon wanted to cry without tears, and smiled and gritted its teeth

Che Yangao: A poet who takes the pulse of an ancient style | chooses himself

tangled

Several boats in disrepair ran aground on the beach

Much like you and me now, old and don't want to move

The more this happens, the more I envy the ageless sea

More often, there will be contemplation

Calm is because there have been too many unpeacefulness

It's like the waves and shoreline have been arguing endlessly

In the midst of restlessness, alive, unable to separate

For the rest of my life, I'm with you

The same is true

Love and non-love are entangled with a lifetime

Like a boat and a bitter salty sea, it is not abandoned

Away, each can only live in loneliness and death

Chibi

Stand here

It can interrupt the memory, but the river water does not need to be welded

Gong Jin loves Little Joe deeper

Descendants of the torch meet here

Treated as a stranger

How many years? Jiang Feng has been telling the story without knowing what to do

Passing boats

You can't see the scene of the burning camp

There were many people stepping on the waves across the river, believing little Joe's lips

Scarlet as blood

I just don't admit that the blood that Zhou Yu spit out can stain a vein of river water red

Years of soft heart

Serve the grass on the cliff as Zhou Lang

I'm sorry

Although the water of the river has a rhyme

On the stone wall

Those two words are still bloody

Che Yangao: A poet who takes the pulse of an ancient style | chooses himself

That time

At that time, a slow bullock cart accelerated the years

Sat in the car for a few days

A cow's tail beat with music, and it did not transport the Tang Dynasty to the Republic of China.

For a while, the ground surface was yellow and thin

Just take a look at the dejected crops and you'll know

The sun is strong, and the flowing water has not yet learned to open the river

At that time, the snowflakes were beautiful, and there was no power to bind the chicken

God, shake the goose feather fan

Frost's face was pale, and he dared to claim to dominate the world

At that time, male cultivators and female weavers were the days. Love is not on the lips

When great trouble comes, take a way to live

Let the person you love go first, and cut yourself off later

For a while, the dewdrops were just teardrops of the moon

The snow-capped mountains were touched by the sun, and the wind threw a whip

On the tip of the grass, you can graze a herd of cattle and sheep

For a while, the killing, was a flower of blood blooming and trembling

Let death sing the praises of bravery

The ultimate battle is to let the god of death calm the conquest

For a while, the mind was the bodhisattva of every life

Go to the Zen monastery to practice asceticism and be your own god

Divine powers, also known as convenient multi-doors

At that time, Dao Gao Yizhang was a mantra, not the courage of blood and blood

Ma Ge shrouded the body, only a dead soldier

Let the devil put down the butcher's knife before he becomes a Buddha

At that time, the mountain was called the dragon vein, which was a vein of feng shui under the ancestral plate.

For foresight

Digging a mountain is equivalent to digging up your own ancestral grave

For a while, integrity grew into the bones of the students

Jian'an wind bone is higher than the Big Wild Goose Pagoda

Let the bones bend their waists, call it flattery, let the integrity stand, call it proud bones.

At that time, the Yellow River was young. Rub a rope with the power of heaven and earth

Shorter than time, longer than history

One end is tied to the ancient, and the other is tied to the present

At that time, the foot strength was exhausted by the horseshoe and the camel bell

The road is stepped out of suffering

Some people live and go into the cemetery, some people die, and they go into qingshi

At that time, a bean fire was short, and the night was long

Turned over bamboo Jane's hand to go to the front of the archaeology

Poor and poor, I can't get enough of a light in my eyes

At that time, the saint was as golden as gold, and only then did he have a word

Tang poems and Song poems led the way, and a storyteller sang

The Emperor Jinkou, the poet Yuyan

Only then did he dare to walk in heaven with wings

The south ship and the north horse caught up with the snail walk

But I don't know the Antarctic and the North Pole, nor do I know the Eastern Hemisphere and the Western Hemisphere

At that time, inspiration had not yet been born

Imagination brews verses into wine

Asking Qingtian about the wine is Su Shi, sighing when the moon is there

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