This was originally a poetic country and a poetic world. Thousands of years ago, people sang "Guanguan Jujiu, on the continent of the river. A beautiful lady, and a gentleman is good." Poetic meaning is singing, poetic meaning is life, without inspiration, the result of happiness, poetry is ready to come out at any time. Today, people have found a more convenient way of life and expression, and on the road of rapid growth, they take function to get a sense of beauty. After tossing and turning, racking my brains, I can't touch the poetic clothes.
Not only that, people who are addicted to poetry will definitely be regarded as an alien who cannot integrate with society. A male guest who recites poems on the blind date stage will definitely be regarded as an incommunicable weird person by the female guest. The goodness and beauty in our hearts have been difficult to poetize and turn to materialization. Just like facing the sea, it means airline vacations and seaside cabins, not the inner sea and spring flowers.
But will poetry disappear from now on? People in good times are within reach. When I was in adversity, I found that it could blur those unsatisfactory, but it was the beautiful "poetic heart" contained in my heart.
When God is creating man, he must use all his heart and wonder. Tears can irrigate flowers, suffering can condense into mountains and rivers, and there are heroes in the hills and gully, and they can go back home.
I think this should be the reason why the movie "Poetry" stunned the Korean film scene. When suffering collides with poetry, when salvation merges with poetic heart, the nobility of that soul is placed in the spring song flower language, and it is beyond words.
The old woman who raised her grandson alone had to raise a huge amount of cash to compensate the girl’s mother because of her grandson’s crimes. There is nowhere to go in life, and she is in a difficult situation, but she still goes to poetry class every week in neat and elegant clothes. Carry a small notebook with you, just to capture those flashes of inspiration at any time. Under the tree, in the rain and in the field, she smiled and said to everyone she met: I have loved flowers since I was a child, do you know those flower words. I now go to poetry class every week.
An old man who had to bow his head to life and the world, a patient diagnosed as a patient with Alzheimer's in the hospital, dedicated the dignity that he had painstakingly preserved in his heart to poetry, and dedicated his innate devotion to beauty to poetry. Seeking a kind of redemption from poetry, and then indifferently chose a despised activity for herself, in exchange for money to save her grandson's life.
Doesn't she understand that she can neither redeem the dead girl nor save her unrepentant grandson. But the suffering of life is that you have to do many things that are not what you want, and embark on the roads that you have to take. This is a predicament that everyone needs to go through.
How to get out of trouble? This is the true magical effect of literature and art. A sincere poetic heart turns Chunhuaqiuyue into a heart facing the sea, and patience and embarrassment into a warm spring blossom in his heart.
Literature and art are not used to conquer high and low, let alone resist or escape. Art is a kind of unstoppable love, self-love and love of life, no matter whether its manifestation is gentle or arrogant. Literature and art should be the twists and turns of life, and suddenly open up, definitely not narrow-minded and paranoid, complaining and hatred.
So there is the first poem in her life, and perhaps the last one—: "How are you there? Is it still so beautiful? Is the sunset still red? Are the birds still singing in the woods? Can you receive it? A letter I haven’t sent? Can I convey the confession that I dare not confess? Will time pass? Will the rose fade? Now is the time to say goodbye, like the wind that comes and goes without a trace, like the shadow that never comes true The promise was sealed with love to the end.
However, in that amateur poetry class, she was the only student who handed over her work, and the only student who offered flowers to the teacher.
Her short life was a real life. A poem is like a poem, warm and fragrant.
After that, she will gradually forget everything, and only the poetic heart is left, and say goodbye to the world.
I hope that even if I grow old, I can’t choose how to die. , But can walk neatly on the road like that, listen to the wind and admire the flowers, turn the misery and sadness of that life into the last inspiration, touch the poem the soul is singing, just like hearing the heaven sing a poem in the distant horizon Ban.
So, in that short life, everything can be put down.
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