The previous antiphonal poem had already shocked everyone in the pavilion.
I didn't expect that the Poet Immortal could be so capable. He kept on quipping with witty words and writing poems as he walked. He really was a man of great reputation, and the so-called Poet Immortal was really fascinated by his poetry.
But what was even more unexpected was that there was actually a poetry maniac in Yangzhou who was more terrifying than the Poetry Immortal!
From the very beginning, Xia Shang did not move a step from where he was. There was no hesitation or change when composing poems. It was even more ordinary than talking to others. The key poems that came from his mouth were classics, and each sentence was brilliant.
.
How can a human get this?
Looking at ancient and modern times, no one can write poems in such an instant as Xia Shang!
No wonder Ke Xiaofeng's eloquence is astonishing.
"The poem just now was not written by you at all!"
As soon as these words were spoken, another bomb fell on the already smoke-filled battlefield, making the battle situation even more confusing.
"Everyone! It's really weird that I, Ke Xiaofeng, would not admit defeat! As we all know, good sentences are hard to come by, and can only be found by skilled hands. Poems and works are all written with intention and arise in response to the situation. What if it is divorced from the real scene and situation?
Can you write good works? Although it is common to use "plum" as the title, it is also unusual to write a plum blossom poem under the scorching sun.
Therefore, there are occasional dissatisfactions in what I write. Not every poem can be called a masterpiece.
But he can make every poem perfect. How can a person do this? More importantly, the style of his previous poems is obviously different. I studied poetry and felt countless emotions from his poems.
Human shadow!
Is it possible that this person has the souls of countless poets hidden in his heart? How can he write such strange poems from one person?"
When everyone heard this, they were suddenly enlightened.
Previously, I was only shocked by the poetry contest between the two, but I forgot to think about the weirdness in Xia and Shang poetry.
After this reminder, the audience was full of people who knew how to ask questions about poetry. They immediately realized the problem Ke Xiaofeng mentioned.
Ouyang Changhao walked up to Xia Shang with a suspicious look on his face and murmured to himself: "Poems come from the heart, and good poems can only be written when the state of mind is reached. Different people have different states of mind, so different people's poetry styles are different.
No one has ever been able to compose poems with completely different styles. When you carefully understand your previous poems, they seem to come from the mouths of different people. Wow! Xia Shang, how dare you use other people’s poems to make up the numbers!"
Plagiarizing poetry!
This is the most taboo thing for literati!
If it were determined that Xia Shang's works were written by someone else, the matter would be in trouble!
Jiang Nan didn't believe it, but she didn't understand, so she didn't dare to speak. She just watched helplessly, anxious.
Everyone looked at Xia Shang, waiting for him to give a reasonable explanation.
Faced with doubts, Xia Shang smiled.
"Yes, poetry comes from the heart, and good poetry will naturally come out when the state of mind is reached. But can a person write poems in different styles? This is not up to you. Since you have doubts, then I will let you know.
What does it mean that there is a sky outside the sky? Bring me a pen!"
There is a writing case in the pavilion, with papers and pens listed on it.
There are thousands of people from Xia and Shang Dynasties. When they lift the pen, dragons and phoenixes dance in an instant, and they write with ink.
The eloquent, wide-opening and closing movements are that of a master who has been devoted to calligraphy for decades. His words are powerful and his style is unique.
Seeing Xia Shang's arrogance, several people gathered around him, only to see a series of poems coming up one after another.
"The country is broken by mountains and rivers, and the city is full of spring vegetation. I feel the flowers splashing with tears, and hate the birds that are leaving. The war continues for three months, and letters from home are worth tens of thousands of gold. The hairpins on the white heads are shorter, and the lust is overwhelming."
The jasper is as high as a tree, with thousands of green silk ribbons hanging down. I don't know who cut out the thin leaves. The spring breeze in February is like scissors.
The grass on the Lili plain dries up and flourishes every year. The wild fire cannot burn it out, but it grows again when the spring breeze blows.
When you are newly dressed, you should go down to the Zhulou Tower to lock in the spring, and the light of the courtyard is somber. Walk to the atrium and count the flowers, and dragonflies will fly up to the jade and scratch your head.
The green trees are dense and the summer is long, and the balcony reflects into the pond. The crystal curtain moves and the breeze rises, and the roses on the shelves fill the courtyard with fragrance..."
what is this?
Can a poet who wrote "The country is broken by mountains and rivers, and the city is full of spring grass and trees" can say such a poem as "It is better to face the Zhulou with new makeup, and the spring is locked deep ~ the light is sad in the courtyard"?
No one can answer.
And the miracles continue...
One song, two songs, three songs...
Ten songs...
Twenty songs...
Everything is done in one go, without pause or hesitation.
If there is a god in writing, maybe he is talking about now, right?
Xia Shang wrote, and only stopped writing when he realized that there was no room for writing on a rice paper covered with books, and turned back to look at the crowd:
"Let me ask, these were all done by others?!"
"..."
There was silence.
There is only a long scroll on the case, with thousands of words written in Chinese ink, and what is written in the words is a shocking picture.
Take a closer look, how could one person write this?
Which one is not a famous piece that can be passed down through the ages?
Just looking at the poem, it seems that the efforts of the great Confucians from different eras over thousands of years have been condensed, and it is a magnificent poem with a strong sense of history. It seems that one can see the twinkling stars in the historical sky and the heroic righteousness of the long river in the world.
This is no longer something that can be described by a volume of eternal masterpieces. This is a treasure, a heritage of history and humanity, the crystallization of human literature, containing a variety of feelings and written down by hundreds of eras.
Everyone watching almost forgot about time and thinking, and almost couldn't believe that everything was real.
Is there really a poet in the world?
With such a rich and colorful stroke, what does Mr. Ke, who is known as the Immortal of Poetry, mean to him?
If Master Ke is a poet, then who is this young man?
Poetry mad?
Poet?
Poetry demon?
Regardless of what it is called, the previous scene has subverted everyone's understanding.
It is said that poetry comes from the heart, and what kind of person writes what kind of poetry?
Everything is a joke in front of this collection of hundreds of poems, a huge joke!
The young man in front of me has proved with facts that poetry can be written without thinking, seeing the real scene, following one’s heart, and unifying the style...
Ke Xiaofeng was already blushing. She had never experienced such a failure since she was a child. But she was not blushing because of shame, but because of excitement, because her failure was not because she was not good enough, but because her opponent was too strong!
In a daze, Ke Xiaofeng suddenly thought of a poem circulating in Yangzhou: "The paper is full of absurd words and a handful of bitter tears. It is said that the author is crazy, who can understand the meaning?"
It turns out that this is not about "Dream of Red Mansions", but about people who read the book!
Tired, calm, quiet...
The atmosphere in the small pavilion is indescribable.
Today I met an astonishing talent named ‘Xia Shang’. I wonder what kind of waves it will cause tomorrow?
At this moment, a scream came from outside the pavilion, breaking the silence in the pavilion like a thunder.
"No! The thief is coming!"
The sudden cry made everyone stunned.
The thief is coming?
For a while, people couldn't understand these words, so they thought someone was playing a prank.
But at this moment, outside the pavilion, looking from the clouds to the backyard of Liuzhuang, a white ocean current was pouring in rapidly, and in a moment, everyone in the venue was surrounded. (To be continued)