Dai Wangshu (1905- 1950) and 1932 "Modern" were founded, and he published many works and translations about them. His published poems include My Memory (1929), Wang Shucao (1933), Poems of Wang Shu (1937), Years of Disaster (1937), and The Book of Poetry.

Thinking of the impression of autumn night before the ancient temple, the moth and butterfly are worried about Qiu Meng. Occasionally mention my memory of wandering songs. I used damaged palms to cross the old house. When the sun was shining, I gave a firefly as a gift to Kemu Nightcrawler's eyes, and I thought of the bird of paradise.

-

In front of the ancient temple

Died in front of an ancient temple

On the dark water,

How much is it printed on me?

Think of the soft footsteps below,

Bigger than a long-legged water spider,

Lighter and faster footprints.

From the tender leaves of Sophora japonica,

It jumps gently.

Water soaked with ancient sad bells

It skimmed the ripples, crossed the algae,

Span tiny, tiny.

Walk at a brisk pace.

Then, hesitating,

Gave birth to wings ...

It flew,

This little mayfly,

No, it is a butterfly. It is dancing.

Between reeds, on the flowers of Polygonum cuspidatum;

It went up,

Become a lark,

Scatter silent voices on the ground. ...

Now it is a Peng bird.

In the floating white clouds,

In the vast blue sky,

It spread its wings, and slowly,

Wan Li's soaring,

Wandering in past lives and afterlife.

It hovers alone,

On the distant Yunshan,

On the edge of the world;

For a long time, I was pitifully stubborn.

Finally, in despair.

It came back to my mind.

Dormant there sadly.

-

Autumn night thoughts

Who moves the knife ruler?

The heart also needs autumn clothes.

Listen to Jiao Ren's call,

Listen to Konoha's breath!

The wind blows from all directions,

Eavesdropping on the broken voice inside.

The poet said: the heart is a piano.

Who has heard of ancient Chun Xue?

Comfort for the dead who know the truth,

Someone hung it on the treetop,

For the sake of nature-

But the floating sound I've heard before.

And broken paulownia, Wu Si,

It will only make people think of the New Year from the string column.

-

impression

Is falling into a deep valley.

A faint bell,

It is heading for Yanshui.

Small fishing boat,

If it is a blue pearl;

It has fallen into the dark water of the ancient well.

The fading sun shines from the top of the forest,

It gathered gently.

Follow the shallow smile on your face.

From a lonely place,

Distant and lonely sobbing,

Slowly return to the lonely place, lonely.

-

noctuid

The round lights around the candles,

Spodoptera litura can do a bad round dance,

I don't remember all the fallen immortals in these fragrant countries.

Dead insects, dead leaves.

Said it was a family member who was taking a nap,

Flying over mountains, flying over cloud trees,

To comfort our misfortune,

Or miss our dead,

Forced by memory, I left the static night platform.

I understand that they are myself,

Because they use big colorful velvet wings.

Cover my shadow,

Let it stay in the dark.

This is just an idea, not a dream.

It's like that day I became a phoenix.

-

white butterfly

Give me any wisdom,

Little white butterfly,

Open a blank page,

Close the blank page?

Open page:

Loneliness;

Closed pages:

Loneliness.

-

worry

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.

-

Autumn Dreams

The shepherd's bell in the distance,

Shake off the light leaves.

Qiu Meng is light,

This is the gentle and elegant love of a shepherdess.

So my dream came quietly,

But it carries a heavy past.

Oh, now, I'm a little cold,

Some are cold, and some are melancholy.

-

Even success.

If the spring of life comes again,

All the old ice makes a loud noise when it thaws.

Then I'll see a big smile again,

Hear the clear call again-these distant dreams.

These beautiful things will never disappear,

Because all good things exist forever,

They condense like ice,

One day it will re-open like a flower.

-

Broken finger

In an old dusty bookshelf,

I dipped my broken finger in an alcohol bottle;

Whenever I am bored looking for ancient books,

It evoked a sad memory.

This is the severed finger of a dead friend of mine.

It is pale and skinny, just like my friend;

It has always been attached to me, and it is very clear.

When he gave me this severed finger:

"Save this ridiculous and sad love memorial for me,

In a fragmented life, it can only increase my misfortune. "

His words were soothing and calm, like a sigh,

And his eyes seem to contain tears, although his face is smiling.

I don't know his "ridiculous and pathetic love",

I only know that he was arrested in a worker's house;

Then torture, then miserable prison,

Then the death penalty, and then when we are all dead.

I don't know his "ridiculous and pathetic love",

He never talks to me, even when he is drunk.

But I think it must be a sad thing,

He hid it, and he wanted it to be forgotten with the broken finger.

This broken finger is still stained with ink marks. It is red.

It's lovely bright red,

Very dazzling on this broken finger,

Just like he blames others for looking at me with cowardly eyes.

This broken finger often brings me faint, sticky sadness,

But this is a very useful treasure for me.

Whenever you are depressed about a little thing,

I would say, "OK, let me take that glass bottle out."

-

My memory

My memory is faithful to me.

More loyal than my best friend,

It lives on burning cigarettes,

It lives on a pen painted with lilies,

It lives in an old box,

It feeds on fallen raspberries,

It lives in a half-drunk bottle,

On the torn poems in the past,

On the pressed flower piece,

On the dim light,

On the calm water,

Of all things with and without souls,

It's everywhere,

Just like I am in this world.

It's timid,

It's afraid of people's noise,

But when I'm lonely,

It visited me at close range.

Its voice is very low,

But its words are long, long,

Very long, very trivial, never willing to rest;

Its writing is ancient,

Always telling the same story,

Its tone is harmonious,

Always singing the same song,

Sometimes it imitates the voice of a girl who loves focus.

Its voice is weak,

But also with tears, with a sigh.

Its visit is still uncertain,

At any time, at any place,

Often when I have gone to bed, I feel sleepy;

Or choose an early morning,

People will say it's impolite,

But we are old friends.

This is trivial and will never stop.

Unless I cry sadly,

Or fell asleep,

But I will never hate it,

Because it is loyal to me.

-

Wandering ballad

When the sea breeze blows,

The dark water is full of blue roses.

-Where's the homeless house?

The fence gate is the home of spiders.

The earth wall is the home of Ficus pumila.

The leafy fruit trees are the home of birds.

Wanderers don't even have homesickness,

He floats between whales and sea pythons:

Let the lonely flowers bloom and fall at home.

Because there are blue roses on the sea,

Does the wanderer want to haunt his deserted home?

There are more beautiful companions than roses.

A beautiful little traveling companion is a warmer home,

Homesickness of wanderers lingers there.

Well, forever floating between whales and sea pythons.

-

Prison wall

If I die here,

My friend, don't be sad,

I will live forever.

In your hearts.

One of you is dead,

In Japanese-occupied prisons,

The deep hatred he harbors,

You should always remember.

When you come back,

Dig out his injured limb from the soil,

With the cheers of your victory

Hold his soul high.

And put his bones on the top of the mountain,

Exposed to the sun and bathed in the wind;

In the dark and damp dungeon,

This is his only dream.

-

I used my injured palm.

I used my injured palm.

Explore this vast land:

This corner has been reduced to ashes,

That corner is just blood and mud;

This lake should be my hometown,

(In spring, the bank is full of flowers.

Tender willow branches are broken with strange fragrance)

I touched the coolness of seaweed and water;

The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold.

The water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through the fingers;

Rice fields in the south of the Yangtze River, your new grass.

It is so thin, so soft ... now there is only Artemisia capillaris;

Litchi flowers in Lingnan wither in loneliness,

I have been immersed in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats. ...

Invisible palms sweep the infinite mountains and rivers,

Fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with darkness,

Only the far corner is still intact,

Warm, clear, firm and vigorous spring.

On it, I stroked it with my broken palm,

Like a lover's soft hair, a baby's milk.

I put all my strength on the palm of my hand and put it on it.

Send love and all hope,

Because there is only the sun, no spring,

Will dispel the haze and bring Su Sheng,

Because it's the only place where we don't live like animals,

Die like an ant ... there, eternal China!

-

National wine ju

Such a slow shadow,

Such a warm silence,

The smell of this afternoon tea,

How familiar you are with me.

There is a balcony, this window.

There is happiness peeping behind,

There are some books and two beds.

A bottle of flowers ... this is heaven.

I haven't forgotten: this is home,

A wife is like jade, and a woman is like a flower.

The call of the morning and the gossip under the lamp,

Think about it, it will make people stupid;

Listening to their intimate cries,

Being proud all day is enough,

Stand up straight when you go out.

Look up and smile at work.

Now ... isn't my lunch at home?

..... There must be plates and bowls on the table.

Hand-mixed soup, hand-cooked rice,

I'm greedy when I think about it.

How many times have I walked this road!

How many times? ..... once compressed into a pile,

People can't tell, the days are so similar,

The same happy day, the twin sisters!

I am confused,

Did I forget to say "goodbye" when I went out today?

Or did this happen many years ago,

There are many changes between them?

But this balcony, this window,

It's too quiet there, there's no sound,

No lovely shadows, petite shouts,

Just lonely, lonely, accompanied by sunshine.

Why are my steps so tired?

No matter whether the hard times are on my shoulders,

Suppress grief, penetrate into bone marrow,

Make my eyes dim and my heart fade away?

Why is the bitter feeling so fresh?

The wound doesn't seem to be closed yet, and the bitterness is between the tip of the tongue.

It was the idea of going home that deceived me,

Or are the years of disaster really between them?

I don't understand. If nothing changes,

But I fantasized about myself,

Everything is there, intact:

No laughter from Ivylinna Lee, no happiness from dust?

Or those real years, years,

Walking too fast, catching up with the present,

Looking back, I hurried back,

Walk with me a few more steps and give me instant happiness?

Someone opened the window,

Someone opened the door,

Go to the terrace

A stranger.

Life, life, endless hardships!

Swallow your tears and listen to your tired footsteps:

It's not just the sea and sky, clouds and trees that interrupt the dream of the soul.

Unknown passers-by hesitated for a moment and walked past.

-

octagon

Yaeko is always depressed,

I'm afraid she will be depressed and lose her youth.

Yes, I am worried about her health.

Especially her brooding eyes.

The smell of hair is a distant love,

Far enough to make people cry;

But in order to make her happy, I can only smile,

You can only smile like a happy person.

Because I want her to forget loneliness,

Forget the faint homesickness that haunts her,

I will make her forget that she is walking.

Endless, lonely and desolate road.

On her lips, I want to bless her,

For my forever melancholy yaeko,

I hope she will always have a suitable face,

The face of spring flowers is the heart of first love.

-

When the weather is clear

When the weather is clear,

It's time to take a walk on the path;

Muddy roads soaked by rain,

Must be cool and gentle;

Show new green grass,

Immediately washed away the dirt;

White chrysanthemum that is no longer timid,

Slowly raise their heads,

Try cold, try warm,

Then the petals break out of the shell;

Butterflies shake off water droplets.

Walking freely among the leaves,

The page of wisdom that decorated it.

Open and close when exposed to sunlight.

Take a walk on the path,

When the weather is fine:

Barefoot, hand in hand,

Tread across the stream in fresh mud.

Xinyang pushes away the haze,

The warm wind wrinkled the stream,

Look at the dark green moving in the mountains-

The footprint of the cloud-it is also wandering.

-

firefly

Fireflies, fireflies,

You took a picture of me.

According to me, according to Lou Cao,

According to this dirt, according to your age.

I'm lying here, letting Bud

Through my body, through my heart,

Grow into a tree and blossom;

Let a piece of moss,

So light, so light

Covering my whole body,

Like a pair of little hands,

When I sleep during the day,

Put a thin quilt

Put it gently on me.

I'm lying here

Chew the fragrance of the sun;

In another world,

Larks are flying high in the blue sky.

Fireflies, fireflies

Give off a faint light—

Enough to bear the memory,

Enough to swallow heavy sadness!

-

Gekemu

I don't understand why people give those stars.

Take names they don't need,

They wander around in space, with no attachments,

Don't know us, and don't ask Vinda.

Remember Sirius, Neptune, bears ... this pile,

Their composition, their direction,

You rack your brains and your head swells,

My life is still an unknown universe.

Stars come and go, the universe moves,

During the Spring and Autumn Period, people died and lived again.

The sun is infinite, the space is infinite,

We are just little summer worms and well frogs.

Not stupid, not deaf, not old,

The road to becoming a human being is full of ignorance,

It's best not to ask for an answer, but to look at it.

Look at the sky, stars, moon and sun.

Seeing mountains, water, clouds and wind,

Look at the difference between spring, summer, autumn and winter,

Also look at the stupidity of this world, the bustle of this world:

Watching and enjoying silently.

Enjoy it, enjoy it outside time and space,

Joey and I have transcended all fields,

Into a universe with the sun, the moon and the stars,

Is to let you explore and make you look poor.

Otherwise, I will become a strange comet,

If you want to stay in space, you can do whatever you want.

People can't figure out the trajectory and see through the truth.

Then smash the sun into a broken fire and smash the earth into mud.

-

OMD orchestra

Here he comes: Nightcrawler!

There is a calm voice in the deserted street.

From the dark fog,

Into the black fog.

My closest friend tonight,

He knows all the little things,

So familiar, inspired by it,

He dyed all his weirdest temper.

Nightcrawler is the strangest person.

Looking at him in the dark:

Wearing a black felt hat,

Walk quietly like night.

-

eye

In your hazy eyes

The tide rises in the distance;

Emerald pearls,

Bronze seaweed ...

The wings of thousands of flying fish,

Cutting, dividing and compounding

Stubborn deep water.

Water without cliffs,

Dark blue water;

At what latitude and longitude of the ocean,

I am committed to and addicted to.

In the sun illuminated by the spirit of the sun,

In the moon that reflects light with the spirit of the moon,

Among the stars shining with the spirit of the stars,

So I'm a comet,

With my hands,

With my eyes,

Especially my heart.

I'm exposed to your eyes.

In the dim light,

Above you,

In the mirror of your space

Look at mine.

Transparent and chilling.

The shadow of fire,

The shadow of dead fire or ice fire.

I stretch, I turn around,

I turn around forever,

Always around you

Among you ...

I ran from the sky to the sea,

Rivers flow from the sea to the sky,

I am your every artery,

Every blood vessel,

The blood in each microvascular,

I am your eyelashes.

(They are also in yours.

Looking into your eyes)

Yes, your eyelashes, your eyelashes,

I am you,

So I am who I am.

-

My thoughts

I think so, so I am a butterfly. ...

Ten thousand years later, the call of the little flower,

Through the dreamless and sleepless clouds,

Shake my colorful wings.

-

bird of paradise

Fly, fly, spring, summer, autumn, winter,

Day and night, endless,

Yu Hua's bird of paradise,

This is a happy journey,

Or a slave forever?

Drink dew when you are thirsty,

Drink dew when you are hungry,

Yu Hua's bird of paradise,

This is a fairy's delicious food,

Or for homesickness for the sky?

Is it from heaven?

Or did you go to heaven?

Yu Hua's bird of paradise,

In the vast blue sky

Do you think your journey is lonely, too

If you come from heaven.

Can you tell us,

Yu Hua's bird of paradise,

Since Adam and Eve were exiled,

What happened in the garden that day?