Birds that fall on wires
Suitable height, the best viewing point
A gray bird landed on the wire, motionless
Thankfully, it didn't recognize me
This person, who also wants to fly away, can only walk until he is three years old
Twenty-six years old to write poetry, never been to Everest
I don't know if there is a god in the snowy mountains
Never ridden a horse or driven a sheep. Dreamy nights
I woke up with nowhere to spare
Should not fall in love with a person who is nothing
You shouldn't comb the mirror and cry when you comb it
When I look up
The birds have disappeared, I dare not admit it
In fact, everything is empty
Poetry is life, welcome to the "Caotang Reading Poetry" jointly launched by Cover News, Chengdu Radio and Television Station Listening Hall FM and Caotang Poetry Magazine, I am a reading poet Juanzi. What I just heard was the post-80s female poet Yu Jieyu's poem "The Bird That Fell on the Wire", from her group poem "The World of Man". Yu Jieyu is a native of Hezhou, Guangxi, and a member of the Guangxi Writers Association. His works have been published in Caotang, Stars, Ethnic Literature, Poetry Journal, Poetry Tide, Flying Sky, etc. Published the poetry collection Swamp on the Clouds.
Yu Jieyu's poetry is beautiful but philosophical, quiet but not stormy, and the poet's words are full of her softness, surging and reconciliation of the world and time. Let's listen to this song "I":
I
I am sometimes water, and water passes through stones
Self-inflicted damage of three hundred
Sometimes it is morning dew, and it is more bitter to go to the day
But fell in love with the smell of the sun
A lifetime is too short
A lifetime is too long
All that can be remembered is the deceased
I am the soldier of time who lost the city
It is the peach blossoms of March that bid farewell to the spring breeze
It is also a boundless wild grass, waiting for wildfires
It is a cloud of loneliness
I accidentally walked down into the sky
Yu Jieyu's poetic expression, which reads lightly, but full of flavor, is like a warm cotton, hiding a hurtful needle, reading for a long time, thinking thoroughly, it is inevitable not to be shaken by its hidden sharp angles.
Poetry is life, "grass hall reading poetry", there is temperature, there is texture. Reading the poem today is here, thanks for the attention, we will see you next time.
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