Ye Yuze asked curiously: "Don't you understand either?"
Zha Hongying shook her head and then said:
“You don’t need to understand good poetry! As long as you can resonate emotionally with the author!”
Ye Yuze shook his head, this can be considered a standard fan, right?
 Everyone has heard their conversation. Obviously, everyone is somewhat dissatisfied with the foreigner and the child.
Mang Ke looked at Zha Hongying with some blame. "Yingzi, please don't bring irrelevant people here in the future."
Cha Hongying's face turned a little red at this time. She took out a piece of paper and handed it to Mang Ke.
“It’s not that he doesn’t understand poetry, there are some good poets there!”
Mangke took it with some disdain. He only read a few lines before he was stunned. He glanced at Ye Yuze hastily, and then looked down eagerly.
Ye Yuze does not dislike these people, especially this man named Mang Ke.
 Obviously, this is a group of young people with ideals and pursuits, but he really didn’t understand the poem just now. That’s why he asked David to ask Cha Hongying.
 Because Cha Hongying was so intoxicated at that moment.
 At this time, the young man named Bei Dao said something.
 “Mangke, read it out and let everyone listen to this good poem!”
Mangke was stunned for a moment, and then he began to have some emotions. He read it out slowly.
Mangke has a nice voice, a standard baritone.
1
 Suddenly thought of what happened behind me
 Write a few words to your son
  .
 Actually, cremation is the cleanest method
 It’s just that we don’t have it here
  .
 Don’t hold a memorial service
 Here, no one understands my life.
  ….
As Mangke’s voice slowly sounded, the hostility in the eyes of the young people slowly faded away.
Engine an epitaph on the monument
What should I engrave? Let me think about it.
Just engrave the word "pain" on it
 In this life, I have been holding back and not speaking out.
  .
 When chiseling
Tell the mason to be gentler.
 “What a poem!”
Bei Dao couldn't help shouting before Mang Ke finished reading!
 At this time, Mangke was already in tears!
 After reading the poem, everyone here’s eyes were wet. How can anyone who likes poetry be cold-blooded?
Bei Dao eagerly took the piece of paper and read it silently eagerly.
The people of that era were simple and honest, especially the young people who were obsessed with poetry. Although there is a saying that literature is not the first, but they really like good works!
Compared to Mang Ke’s sharpness, Bei Dao is much more honest and honest. Perhaps it is his character that allows him to go further on this road.
 “Little brother, who wrote this poem?”
Bei Dao grabbed Ye Yuze's hand and asked impatiently.
Ye Yuze originally wanted to talk about the old man with the white beard. But looking at the sincere eyes, he couldn't say anything.
 After pondering for a while, he raised his head, looked up at the sky, and sighed:
 “This man is not from this era! He is an old soldier of our Corps!”
Bei Dao also sighed loudly! "I am so jealous of the talented people!"
Ye Yuze had a black streak on his head, but there was no way to explain it.
 “This is called poetry! This is called words that shock people’s souls. Like a sharp knife, the heart is bleeding when it stabs!”
“With such seniors here, what qualifications do our Baiyangdian Poetry Tribe have to not work hard?”
Ye Yuze’s eyes narrowed, what the hell is this Baiyangdian poetry tribe?
My hometown is Baiyangdian? Could it be that this Mangke is still a fellow villager?
Seeing Ye Yuze’s confused eyes, Bei Dao explained. It turned out that Mang Ke and several others had worked in the countryside of Baiyangdian for several years, and that’s where they started writing poetry!
Only then did Ye Yuze understand the origin of this title.
Cha Hongying added with some admiration: "They live a very pure life. Bei Dao is a construction worker, and Mang Ke was a factory worker who quit his job to write poetry.
His father had a falling out with him over this matter and kicked him out of the house, so this guy made a living by doing odd jobs and often had nothing to eat!"
 Ye Yuze was a little in awe, David was a little confused.
“Ye, why do you have to be kicked out of your house if you like poetry?”
Ye Yuze didn’t know how to answer this.
 At the end of the day, Munk himself said:
“Poetry often cannot be exchanged for money, and even if it can be exchanged, it cannot sustain life!”
“Then why do you want to quit your job? Isn’t it good to write poetry in your spare time?”
 David's thinking still can't keep up with Munk's ideas.
Mangke was stunned by this question and thought about it for a long time before speaking.
“Doing things I don’t like will wear away the passion in my heart! Poetry requires passion! I don’t want the roar of the machine to crush my dreams!”
 David nodded, the little foreigner seemed to be shocked by this answer.
We are all young people. Who doesn’t have his own ideals? How will he live his life in the future?
 At this time a young man asked: "David, do you have any poetry in the United States?"
 At that time, we were relatively isolated and knew very little about foreign things. We could only hear some news from the radio.
Since Nixon’s visit to China, Sino-Milan relations have been moving forward, otherwise David would not have been able to come to China.
“There are also many poets in the United States, the more famous of whom are Robert B. Lai. I still remember one of his poems.”
The waning moon
The moon is three weeks old, and its light reaches my father's farm,
It is half darkened, hanging in the western sky that is eating away at it.
 The earth contains stones, listen to their singing in the early morning.
 I turned around and entered the house, and saw my shadow reaching for the door latch.
Mangke was shocked again. This is also a hazy poem. But this poem can indeed be read by people.
And the meaning in the words is very deep, as deep as a big baggage weighing on your shoulders.
There was another moment of silence, and David continued:
“Although his poem is thought-provoking, I still like another one, a poem written by an ordinary woman to her husband. Although her husband will never see it.”
 Remember the day I borrowed your new car?
 dented it,
 I think you're going to kill me.
 But you didn’t!
 Remember that time I dragged you to the beach?
 And it rained just as you said.
 I think you would say "I told you so",
 But you didn’t.
 Remember that time I made you jealous with so many guys?
 And you did.
 I think you will leave,
 But you didn’t.
 I remember that time I vomited strawberry pie all over the carpet,
 I think you will definitely beat me,
 But you didn’t!
 I remember that time I forgot to tell you that the dance was formal,
 You showed up wearing jeans.
 I think you will abandon me,
 But you didn’t.
 Yeah! There are so many things you haven’t done.
 Just tolerate me, love me, protect me!
 There are so many things I want to do for you,
 Waiting for you to return from the battlefield,
 But you didn’t!
 There was a long silence, only the sound of people’s heavy breathing was left!
Perhaps this poem may not even be called poetry in the eyes of academics, but is it really not poetry?
 Experts can cite the classics to evaluate, but they can’t because they cry.
Chapter completed!