"I heard from the monks in the temple that Mr. Hu has always been a talented poet. Many of the poems on the plaques in Jianjia Temple were written by him. I admire him very much.
The lantern-carrying master and I are both good poets, and we have gained a lot from our sightseeing today, so I would like to meet friends with poems and serve tea to have fun. I wonder if you, sir, would like to give it a try?"
Hu Wen smiled reservedly. He didn't dare to say anything else. He couldn't compare to the human system in discussing mysteries, and he didn't have the same background in ancient and modern times. But if he said it was poetry, he was worthy of others, and it was him.
His only hobby other than spiritual practice is his innate ability to integrate into the human world.
Many of the inscriptions and postscripts in Jianjia Temple were written by him. He was good at poetry, but Master Nanneng was not good at poetry, so he just gave him a chance to show off his skills. Although Jianjia Temple is located in a remote place, there are many good men and women, and pilgrims and believers often come from afar.
After worshiping Buddha, I looked at the temple scenery and often admired his works. From this point of view, the envoy did not deceive him.
If you have a skill, of course you want to show it in front of others. This is true for humans, and it is the same for monsters. Especially for poetic talent, you cannot hide it in your belly and get better and better. Only by writing it down and spreading it can it be remembered for generations.
Poets, all have a heart to win in front of others.
"It's my wish, but I don't dare to invite you. So, please ask the envoy to mark the topic."
Hou Ting chuckled, his poetry aroused, "In this way, I will respond with a five-character poem to match the current scene; since I am the one who picks the topic, I should go first."
Hu Wen was very interested, and good poetry was in the temple. When it came to Buddhist poetry, he would not be far behind others. He wanted to see what the Taoist was capable of at this time. If he was really talented in poetry, he might have to come up with something.
If he is just a talented person in limericks, it would be hard to lose face by just throwing in a few random sentences and laughing.
Hou Ting stood up and walked around the meditation hall. Regardless of whether it was true or not, this style was very well done. He had stayed with the sour scholar King Luo Lin for a long time, and he had learned it under the influence of his own eyes and ears.
Seven and eight points.
Master Nan Neng closed his eyes and concentrated. The monk holding the lantern watched him quietly. Hu Wen was the only one who expressed expectations.
"Yes!"
After walking around pretending for a few times, Hou Tzu clapped his hands, shook his head, and cadenced.
"Outside the lonely bed, I saw a Buddhist lamp in the dim light. Under a few red trees, a white-headed monk. The cold dew first hid the crane, and the forest was quiet and loved the eagle. The west wind moved the shadow of the flag, and I was speechless and asked Nan Neng."
A few people savored it carefully, and there was still some artistic conception. I didn't expect that a perfect common man could have this ability. The poem is not amazing, but it is quite satisfactory. It can be regarded as a high-quality work, but it is not something that can be perfunctory by ordinary talents.
.
His first poem set the tone at once. If it were not as good as this, the other two would be too embarrassed to show it to others. Monks have acting skills, and literati love to compete with poems. Who is really good at this?
If you cannot obey others, this is the saying that no one should be first in literature and no second in military skills.
The lantern-carrying monk knew that it was his turn. Although he still didn't know what that guy meant by doing this, as a companion, he always needed to cooperate a little; and for practitioners like them, because their brain development is far better than that of ordinary people and they are well-read
For them, it is a basic skill. Things like composing poetry are just something they don't want to do and waste time, but that doesn't mean they don't have this ability.
That idiot can fool around with a song, so how can he be willing to back down in front of others?
Without pacing, he sat cross-legged with his eyes closed and muttered something. After a while, he opened his eyes.
"I have it too! Listen: the countryside is sparsely populated, and the fine hut is alone and peaceful. The fragrant flowers are in the true Buddhist world, and the buildings are beginning to pass by. Birds peck at leftovers from the meal, and monks meditate in the middle of the night. Several acres of cool land are already separated from the world."
Hu Wen clapped his hands and laughed. He originally thought that these two people were here to ask questions, but it seemed that they had been blocked by their master. It had been prepared for this, with various plans and countless rebuttals, but it seemed that they were no longer needed now.
How could two minor cultivators of the same realm as myself, even if they were human beings, dare to indulge in the presence of the master?
Once the worries were gone, the desire to win arose, and no one else dared to compete with these two human monks with backgrounds. But because of the name of the poem, even if God came, he wouldn't let him!
A little bit of speculation shows that the poetry of these two people is quite talented among human beings. If they don't show some real ability, I'm afraid they won't be able to surpass these two people.
Neither pacing, nor closing eyes in meditation, only pondering for a moment, and opening his mouth,
"In the autumn scenery of a nunnery, we sit together in front of a Buddha lamp. The wind carries the incense chime, and the moon floats on the tea spring. The cold sand is blowing on the sleeves, and the sound of the trees hangs outside the window. After the words are spoken, the crows settle down, and the mountain monk goes into night meditation."
It is indeed a good poem, but what is commendable is its eagerness. This kind of talent is outstanding even among human scholars, but this nonsense is just a demon that has not yet become a pill.
Even Master Nanneng, who was watching the battle from the sidelines, nodded frequently, but there was also worry hidden in his appreciation. This Quanzhen disciple was not easy to deal with. What else was hidden behind the poem? He couldn't guess it for a while.
Hou Zi clapped his hands and laughed, "Okay, okay, great poem! But this is just an appetizer. There is no distinction between high and low, so it's hard to finish it."
After five words of comparison, we will proceed to seven words of comparison. There must be Buddhist characters in it that correspond to the state of mind. Now that we are talking about it, can you two dare to respond?"
The lantern-carrying monk curled his lips and said, "Just tell me, am I still afraid of you?"
Hu Wen was also excited, "The envoy has an order, how dare you disobey it?"
Hou Zihao was very excited and said, "Well, you literary scoundrel, listen up! Today I will teach you what the dual skills of poetry and swords are!"
I have never been greedy to advance and have never rested. I look down on the world and am now waning. Everything I have done is an illusion. I can float in the ten directions without hindrance. Who said that learning Buddhism requires wearing a monk's veil? I laugh and seek immortality only to build a building. Only following the fate is the true meaning, and I can rely on the boat to help.
Anliu."
It has to be said that the artistic conception of his poem is a level higher than that of the previous five-character poem, but this display also aroused the desire of comparison between the other two people.
The lantern-carrying monk suddenly stood up and raised his hands to the sky. He didn't know Hou Zi's intention, but he knew that his cooperation was crucial. He had to enhance the atmosphere. Only by supporting him could he do the next thing!
"The spring breeze accompanied me to the monk's house, and I sighed at the nameless flowers offered to the Buddha. Liu Zi's pillow is not wine, but water. There is no need to ask for black swans. One or two are better than white sand. I hate that it will be difficult to sleep in the coming year, because
Jun Mingzhou’s hatred knows no bounds.”
The two men sang and harmonized, which only made Hu Wenshi's blood boil. He could not care about anything else. As long as he could compete with the two on this occasion, he would give up ten years of his life!
He waved his sleeves and said, "I once saw the phoenix loving the morning sun, but the Buddha's light appeared on the empty mountain. The raccoon lay firmly among the clouds on the broken wall, and the sunrise through the forest and the swallows flew busy. In the forest palace, all the flowers bloomed at dawn, and the spring grass bloomed in the bell tower.
Fragrant. Every now and then I see an old monk coming to expose his back, and sitting in the shadow of his cassock is unforgettable."
Hou Ting burst out laughing, "What a poem! What a poem! Hu Wen, if you don't give us an explanation for the Dong Chuang incident, I'm afraid this poetic talent will be buried in the underworld!"
