Poems Of Tang Chengmao

Tang Chengmao, lives in China, National First-class Writer, member of the Chinese Writers Association, vice director of Chinese Poetry Association, The rotating chairman of the China Poetry Newspaper Alliance. guest-in-chief editor of "Yalujiang" literary magazine, associate editor of "China New Poetry Ranking". Tang was also the executive director of the fourth Chinese Haizi Poetry Award committee, general producer of the second Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala, vice director of the third Chinese Poetry Spring Festival Gala committee, Executive Director of the Organizing Committee of the Boao International Poetry Forum, Executive Director of the Organizing Committee of China's Top Ten Contemporary Poet Awards. Guest professor of Sichuan Communication University, creative writing tutor of Guangdong University of Foreign Studies trustee of The Poetry Institute of China, chief editor of literary magazines, executive director of the first Ten Best Contemporary Chinese Poets assessment committee, He has been Published 11 literary monographs. Won the "Pushkin Poetry Award" of the Russian Writers Association, the "International Poet Laureate Award" of Spain, the "Iberian International Poetry Award" of Spain, the Chinese Contemporary Poetry Award, the 100 Most Powerful Poets of New Poetry in 100 Years, and the West China Metropolis Daily's 2018 "China Ten Great poet" and many others awards.

1.“THE FLOWERS IN THE POND GROW UP AGAINST THE WIND”

The humid body, in the manner of a snake, forces happiness

To make a detour.

The spring can hardly wait.

The flowers in the pond flutter their wings

And grow up against the wind.

The divine bird in your dream, rests at heart, in the most secret place,

While you neglect it.

 

Youth shakes and sways. Dream's ink is not yet dry.

Yesterday's great snow, which covered all the mountains and

fields, soothed the many worldly disputes.

The spring wind is again stepped by spring, around the heart,

And makes squeaky sounds.

 

Wisteria and some philosophies have built comradery, and no longer get entangled

With earthly affairs. The sparrow's conversation with azaleas

Is pregnant with meanings.

 

In the ancient well before the entrance door, there is a volume of Tess of the d'Urbervilles.

There's no mud in the well. Only when there's no living water in politics,

Can the hundred-year-old well

Preserve her chastity.

 

The grown-up plantains, and kindness

Are slowly chewed by the naked yellow cow.

The sycamore tree makes its way through the storms, and when it's twilight,

Every drop is spring fever.

The passing years inside the pipe glitter and glitter.

All the village paths are relocated for the first snow of 2002.

The folk customs are washed again and again.

The old man with white beard wearing bamboo hat and morality, stands at the heart of the village,

Stands at the critical part of nation and family, Just like a veteran at the front guarding his trench.

My townsmen soaked in bitter water, and my celestial nostalgia Have preserved the rustic spring time,

And the simplicity upon the thousand-year-old stone path.

 

 2.“RESISTING THE ENEMY'S ATTACK PERSONALLY, SILENCE IS BATTLE”

 Facing vows of eternal love, the stones in the storm Remain speechless.

The stones are not merciless.

But rather they want the rains to clean

Our vows.

 

Facing fame and fortune,

 

Some people take off their dresses in surprise,

Some people extinguish friendships with torrential water.

Only the stones

Wanting neither favor nor despite, smile in silence.

Does love need the fidelity and persistence of the stones?

Does man need the sobriety and purity of the stones?

Love and sorrows, do they both taste like fine wine, intoxicating

the drinker on a sip?

When the hearts are opened, do they all sound like stones,

speaking in silence?

Resisting the enemy's attack personally, forbearance is destiny and silence is battle.

 

No matter whether life is like dripping water wearing through the stone,

The stones must have their own opinions,

The stones must have their joys and sorrows.

The heartbeats of the stones-the spring must know.

The love and hate of the stones-the old stonemason must be clear.

 

Every stone is a passer-by and meteor in the sky.

Every stone carries the mission of a nation.

Even if the stone is smashed into pieces, or its head sliced from its body,

 

Its love of mankind is still

As firm as a rock, and sometimes even

Blood-boiling.

 

3.“THE PEACH BLOSSOMS OF PUBERTY BLOOM BASHFULLY”

 Under the polished clouds,

The peach blossoms of puberty bloom bashfully.

These rustic peach blossoms

Are fresh and charming.

The bird unwilling to fly away

Rests on the flying peach blossom petals.

The colorful clouds in the sky,

One petal by another, drift upon

My shoulder.

The village on my shoulder

Is linked with the world

Within the closest distance.

 

The season, as bright as the peach blossoms,

Uses its most vivid feathers

To groom the stale city.

A large area of peach trees lift up their arms

To defend the conscience and dignity of the earth.

In the mood of nostalgia,

One man becomes a whole village,

One man becomes a past legend.

 

4. “THERE IS A TEA MOUNTAIN IN THE SKY”       

 There is a tea hill in the sky. Planted on the tea hill are only poetry

And spirit.

 

The flying birds on the hill are helping me with watering.

The fairies can't wait to bloom.

Liu Bang, still wearing Han-style clothes, his white horse tied, is planting tea on the hilltop.

A slight breeze rises, all the Chinese characters on the hill are fluttering all the lines of quaint characters

Will not scheme against the fallen overlord.

Even the ferocious Empress Wu

Has inside her sachet, a collection of lyric poems on grains, and the spring of Tang Dynasty.

 

Every time back to home town, back to my tea hill,

I am covered with wisdom and simplicity.

The reality has brushed past.

The black horses driving is far away.

My future lies leisurely.

Under the tea leaves.

 

5.“THE RIVER WATER IS A SHARP SOFT KNIFE          “

 The bloody twilight has dampened a dynasty

All over.

 

I grab the river and grab the tears,

And the knife glistening amid the tears.

Like an errant knight of previous dynasty

I fly over the air and run on the walls in black cloaks.

In the sunset I am sharpening the knife with my feet on the giant waves.

I am sharpening the knife draped in frontier poems and Liu Yong's lyrics.

I am polishing the moon amid the sharpening sounds, and with

The soft white water and long lingering fate, Together

We quietly sing.

 

6.“THE STORIES BY THE WATERSIDE ARE SPARKLING”

 A girl wetted the dusk with a basin of water

And folded well the incomparably beautiful seasons fished from water.

The fi

ne and slim hands stroked the fringe dripping with water and unintentionally touched

Another one's emotions.

 

Someone used fishhooks to hang admirations upon the river beach the stories by the waterside

Are sparkling.

The fluctuating twilight story will become

An eternal masterpiece.

 

The girl liked to wash her face and colorful clothes by the river side.

She was soaked all over as she walked into someone else's dream.

Countless mornings and twilights, countless gazes upon the river beach,

Were flowing into reminiscences.

 

Countless people saw a lively fish gracefully swinging Youth and charm.

This is a verb gilded in twilight. Any boy would leave shoes and ideals

Behind on the shore.

And, in the best move of a verb, the boy would plunge into the river surface sealed with tight willow branches,

Startling a pond of gulls and egrets,

And a basin of shyness.