This year's Spring Festival is special because of a pneumonia epidemic in novel coronavirus. In the face of the epidemic, the poets were not absent, and there was a wave of anti-epidemic poetry in China. In their own way, the poets recorded the present situation in words, comforted people, eulogized heroes and boosted morale. Today's "Reading Poems in Caotang", we will share the "anti-epidemic poems" of several poets.

First heard this song "Ordinary", from the poet He Mao:

Ordinary

When I wake up early in the early spring, I gather a night's dream.

Get rid of the gibberish with burrs

The poem of the Yellow Crane Tower flew out of the mask.

If the humble abode hatches wings, as long as the sky is there

Kunpeng will leap and the eagle will dive.

Falling time can also become gold.

Through the allegorical corridor, I looked back.

Those unimaginable are often born from the ordinary at the most dangerous time.

The deepest valley is closest to the sky.

There are heroes, warriors and, more importantly, ordinary people who are fighting this epidemic.

Let's listen to the poem "At the moment, the world doesn't need words" by the poet Bei Qiao:

At this moment, the world does not need words.

A gentle turn.

You go out of the house to calm the panic of the world

One person, a group of people, have

The same warm and calm back

Husband, wife, children, brothers and sisters

Have the same name: warrior

Your shoulders are very light, shining with spring.

Your shoulders are heavy and heavy, and countless eyes look forward to it.

The noise between heaven and earth makes way for you.

A thousand words, silence.

We used to care too much.

For example, with the creatures in our * * *

Like the face of love

Like the moonlight tonight and the sun tomorrow.

For example, incredibly unreal and incredibly real breathing.

Now, winter is far away.

Spring is yet to come, and masks are coming.

Perhaps the mask not only blocks the virus.

We should also seal off our greed and nonsense.

Let the soul be washed in peace.

Give all the expressions back to the darkness.

Shut up, control your legs, and control your outstretched hands

Only isolated or fat or thin flesh.

Let the eyes speak and the words be sincere.

Be yourself and open the spring in your heart.

And I, looking at the warrior, in the name of tribute.

Listening to the tide of my shame

It will always be bright, and the late spring is just late.

When the benevolent retrograde takes off his mask,

Tired smile, the most beautiful language in the world