"In addition to Adonis, I also like the Austrian poet Rilke." Wang Zixu said, "He is one of the best poets in the West in the 20th century. His poems have a sculptural beauty, gentleness, silence, and kindness.

, loneliness. His language has broken through the boundaries and touched the sky, like the holy sound of truth.

"'Summer is in full bloom. Place your shadow on the sundial, let the wind blow across the pastures. Let the last fruits on the branches be full; give them two more days of good southern weather to hasten their ripening, and press the last sweetness into the thick

liquor.'

"'Whoever does not have a house now does not need to build it; whoever is lonely now will be lonely forever, so he wakes up, reads, writes long letters, and wanders endlessly on the tree-lined road while the fallen leaves are flying.'"

Wang Zixu placed his thumbs on the soles of the feet, first gently rubbed them, then slowly applied force, feeling the stiffness of the owner of the feet, then relaxed, and then rubbed the Yongquan point with even force.

"Rilke liked roses. He wrote that roses are like eyes, 'the rose that stares, blooms and then withers.'

"One day in 1929, a friend went to visit Rilke. He went to the garden and picked a white rose to give to his friend. His finger was pricked by the thorn of the rose, and the wound became infected until he died. The greatest poet of the 20th century

One, died of a white rose."

An Younan raised his head: "Really?"

"real."

"It's just like the plot of a novel." Miss An commented.

"Yes," Wang Zixu said, "Do you know Zweig? Zweig who wrote "When the Human Stars Shine" was familiar with Rilke. He commented that Rilke was a pure poet."

"What is a pure poet?"

“A pure poet lives to write poetry, to write better poetry, and to write better poetry.

"He had a pair of blue eyes as famous as roses, so Zweig recognized him the first time they met. Those deep, bright, pure eyes closed like blooming roses. His epitaph reads

Author:

"'The rose, ah, pure contradiction, is willing to sleep under so many eyelids like no one has ever done before or since.'"

"Hmm."

Miss An snorted softly. I don't know if she is satisfied with this poem and story. In any case, Wang Zixu is going to tell the next paragraph.

"It is a pity that Rilke did not win the Nobel Prize for Literature like Yeats and Eliot. They are both great poets. Because of this, Rilke is not as famous as the other two.

"There is another South American poet who almost did not win the Nobel Prize for Literature, Neruda. I will talk about him next."

"Okay!" Sartre behind the prince applauded.

An Younan said: "If you get it, you get it. If you don't get it, you don't get it. What do you mean by almost not getting it?"

"Don't worry, I'll talk about it next. The eternal theme of Neruda's poems is love and revolution. He cares about mankind and the country. As Mr. Wen Yiduo said, the poet's most important talent is love, love for his motherland.

, loves his people.

"His love poems are also very touching. Even after being translated and losing many language elements, they can still touch the heart. Reading them makes people want to fall in love.

"I like that you are silent, as if you are far away.

"You hear me from afar, my voice cannot touch you.

"Like a kiss that seals your mouth.

"As all things fill my soul,

"You emerge from everything and fill my soul.

"I like that you are silent, as if you are far away.

"You hear me from afar, but my voice cannot touch you.

"Let me be silent in your silence. And let me speak to you through your silence.

"Your silence is as bright as a lamp and as simple as a ring,

"You are like the night, with loneliness and stars.

"Your silence is the silence of the stars, distant and bright."

Although there was heating in the room, An Younan's feet began to feel slightly cold. The prince thought, in this case, why bother taking off his socks. Fortunately, they don't stink.

He covered it with his palms as much as possible. His hands felt the coldness of his feet, and his feet felt the warmth of his hands.

An Younan let the aftertaste of the poem echo in the air for two bars, and then slowly said: "Do all men like women to shut up? Are they annoyed when they hear them talking?"

"It can also be understood this way."

"You think women don't get annoyed anymore? My dad is really annoyed with my mom, and my mom is also annoyed with my dad. She always complains about me behind my back. My dad doesn't say anything to me. He also writes poetry."

"You have a very happy family."

"Where did you hear this happiness?!"

"It sounds pretty happy to me. My parents have been divorced since I was a child. I only have my dad and I don't see my mom very often."

"...You haven't said why Neruda almost didn't win the Nobel Prize for Literature."

Wang Zixu said: "Neruda is a genius. He published his famous work "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair" at the age of 19. But he has not won the award for a long time. In 1964, Sartre won the

He refused to accept the Nobel Prize for Literature..."

At this point, Sartre behind Wang Zixu covered his eyes: "Oh! No!"

"One of the reasons why he refused to accept the Nobel Prize was that Neruda did not win the prize. This made Sartre, who was on the left, suspect that the Nobel Prize was in the wrong direction. This matter caused quite a stir, and people are still discussing it to this day.

“Just three years after Sartre refused to accept the award, that is, in 1971, I don’t know whether Sartre’s protest had an effect or because Neruda’s friend Allende came to power and was elected president of Chile in 1970. Neruda won the award.

Nobel Prize in Literature.”

An Younan's expression showed a hint of understanding, and he said: "So, he still won the prize, and Sartre was in vain."

"No," said Wang Zixu, "later, after the historical documents were lifted, people discovered that Neruda had been nominated for the Nobel Prize many times, but was rejected many times because of his political leanings. Because he was a Chilean

The Communist Party."

"Oh——" An Younan raised his head, "There is something wrong with the Nobel Prize."

Wang Zixu was noncommittal: "The reason why I said 'almost didn't win' is because, just two years after he won the award, Pinochet launched a military coup and the Allende government collapsed. As Allende's friend, Nielu

Da died mysteriously.”

An Younan was silent.

"As for Allende, you can watch John Khan Jr.'s video about Chile."

An Younan yawned.

"Okay, I understand. Next, let's talk about domestic matters."

Wang Zixu felt like he was a foot rub girl in "One Thousand and One Nights", and An Younan was the king who told her a story every day.

"The top modern poets in China are, of course, Bei Dao, Gucheng, Haizi, etc. The most recently famous one alive now is Yu Xiuhua. But what I want to tell you about is a little-known poet.

Be determined.

"Xu Lizhi is an assembly line worker in Futukang. He only has one poetry collection "Iron Moon". His poems are full of despair. 'I swallowed a moon made of iron, and they called it a screw.' This kind of reality

The cruelty leaves people speechless."

Wang Zixu changed the shape of his hands, touching the soles of his feet with the thicker palm part below the tiger's mouth, and stretched out his thumb to push forward. The instep of his feet was smooth, and the toes changed their formation under the force of his hands, like a series of beating notes.

"'I talk about blood out of helplessness. I also want to talk about romance, the history of the previous dynasty, and the poetry in wine. But reality makes me can only talk about blood.'

"'The blood comes from the matchbox-like rental house. It is narrow, cramped and never sees the light of day all year round. It squeezes working people and working girls, lost women with long-distance husbands, and people who run around for life during the day and write poems with their eyes open at night.

I.'

"Perhaps he did not explore the boundaries of language art, but what is shocking is the harsh reality of bloody flesh and blood. When I knew this poet, he was already dead. He died of falling from a building, possibly committing suicide. It is now nearly 10 years later

The reality may be a little better, or it may not be.”

The sound of even and subtle breathing came from the seat. Wang Zixu stood up slowly. An Younan had fallen asleep, with his head hanging on his chest.

Wang Zixu smiled bitterly. When talking about the bottom, power is always easy to fall asleep. He tiptoed, gently covered her with a blanket, and then walked out slowly.

He went out and closed the door. As soon as he turned around, he met Duan Xiaosang with twinkling eyes.

"Where's Xiaonan?"

Wang Zixu pointed to the door and said, "She is asleep."

Duan Xiaosang didn't believe it. She walked into the room and took a look, and then walked out again, her eyes became even stranger.

"What exactly did you talk about?"

Wang Zixu glanced at his watch. More than half an hour had passed. A man and a woman had been alone in a room for more than half an hour. Only one man came out, and the woman fell asleep...

No matter how you think about it from any angle, it's very suspicious. It's completely suspicious. It's like a snake slowly swimming towards me with a blood-red apple in its mouth.

But Wang Zixu didn't want to explain. He just said: "We talked about poetry."

"poetry??"

Wang Zixu said: "It's time for me to say goodbye."

Duan Xiaosang could only let him go.

When Wang Zixu walked to the door, she came up and said, "Let's exchange contact information."
To be continued...