my little beast

I watched the first poetry movie in my life tonight, and the more I reminisced, the more deeply I felt attracted. Symbolic shots, euphemistically expressing ancient simplicity of life, witchcraft, love and death. The relationship between lovers is the blue morning star, the blood is the galloping brown-red horse, echoing in the mountains and streams, "Ivan ~~~", who is heading into the distance and no one responds. The director's bold movement and angle of the camera allow viewers to have unlimited space and freedom for interpretation. The more they think about it, the more meaningful it becomes. For a layman who is new to poetry movies, it's really a good start.

Silently slandering when watching a movie, this love story seems a bit old-fashioned. But after thinking about it, what new forms and connotations can we pursue for love? Why should we? I am still moved by this pure love story. The essence of love is ancient, plain and simple, and I haven't seen it in reality and books for a long time. Nowadays, people seem to rarely believe in the existence of such sincere feelings (I was reminded yesterday by a senior who is more romantic and ideal), and writers rarely write about love in a positive and desirable way (maybe this is contemporary literary needs). But on a lonely and brave road, to see such a love story, still as Mudan wrote, there are still little beasts hidden in our hearts, God is just playing with himself... At the end, Ivan wears the groom's clothes Buried, to see his beautiful girl, he could be with Marischka, whom he had fallen in love with as a child, for ever, and he had more vitality and affection than when he was alive. This reminds me of Bunin's "Cold Autumn" again. If I want to talk about the real days in my life, those rough and lonely lives can not be counted. Only the moments of unreserved love and being loved are the most real. of. I haven't talked about this topic for a long time, and I even avoided it, but I think I have the qualifications to talk about love freely [laughs through tears], so I can still talk about it when I feel it.

Finally, a building crooked, Marischka slipped off the cliff with her shoes on, and died in the rushing cold water. Thinking of the teacher asking why the peacock fly in the southeast of the suicide took off his shoes and went into the river in class today. In the afternoon, I feel that this is a kind of "naked come and go without worry", at the last moment, I finally perceive life and running water, and return to nature after death. Even river water has the metaphorical meaning of "water of yellow spring" in Sappho's writings. Now with new ideas, wearing shoes may be an accidental and undeserved death, and taking off shoes may be the last preparation that life can make, so as to be able to go to the end calmly and even contentedly.

I really like poetry movies, and I feel better after watching it than when I watched it!