A poetic sorrow
Text/Shu Yuzhu
A poetic sorrow,
Gently open at the beginning of life.
Crooked footsteps,
Rushing to the half-summer time in the fragrance,
When the leaves fall, drink a cup or two of the poison you boiled.
The wind hesitated,
Fear frightened the twilight drum that sounded for the rest of his life.
Reciting the Buddhist scriptures of three lives,
Just waiting for a love word to pass by,
I cook a cup of sour rice under the plum blossom trees in December.
curtain in the rain,
Yuan Tingting bypassed the mountain temple,
Roll over the Sky Lake,
Turbulent emotions yearn for a handful of thin bones,
Settle in your eyes.
The wind from the south ruffled the wet shirt,
The word of kneeling is subverted in the thin days.
Write from the beginning of the year to the end of the year,
But I can't pick a word,
There is an ending that your poetry gives.
From youth to twilight,
Still in the season of longing for the blossoms of the coming year,
Do you want me,
Find a way home under the linden tree you planted,
Stay on your breadth and become your character again,
Just want to stop leaving my soul alone.
2021.9.3
Red Dust Road
Text/Shu Yuzhu
I no longer hope,
Fragrance under autumn.
The wind, slowly rubbing the withered dusk,
The story of withering, burial.
Snuggled up in the old doorway and no longer measuring the path traveled.
You passed by my twilight years,
The hustle and bustle has been cut out by you into the past.
Green leaves go with you,
And I'll leave a dead pile.
Whether or not sorrow is extended in the coming year,
I just want to lodge the cold word in a distant place.
Red dust road,
A touch of autumn color breeds a sweet offering.
Under the green light ink,
When pain crushes the heart day and night,
Thoughts are still the same as always,
And my pen can no longer write the fortitude in my eyes.
The heart-to-heart music is played over and over again,
From dark to dawn,
Can't keep the time that has passed.
One finger of vicissitudes,
Pieced together fragments out of context,
Some people don't have time to forget something,
And in this dust I buried all my dreams.
2021.9.2 afternoon essay
I walked through the ancient alley
Text/Shu Yuzhu
When the years pass by,
My memory still lingers on in the old alley I walked through.
The middle of the night,
Life has been desolate several times,
Another few degrees of brilliance and a few degrees of vicissitudes.
Shadow oblique into the window,
Reflecting idle articles,
Between the lines there is my soul,
By the dusty door,
A lonely chant.
Dew drops at midnight,
Caught with the wounds of prosperity and fall,
Scattered texts are silent in the past of smoke.
When the dust of the years is hidden in the half-truncated line of poetry,
I composed an autumn song,
Make the clear piano sound, the rhyme is tragic.
Gaze at the sky,
The breath in the air is a little melancholy,
The longing encounter in the eyes cannot touch the fragrance of yesterday.
Lonely Shadow Tear Cold,
The prosperity of the past has been stained with the frost of late autumn.
2021.9.2