Chapter 45 poet

It is a link that connects reality and the future; it is a spring that thirsty souls drink from; it is a tree full of fruits that grows on the banks of beautiful rivers and feeds hungry souls; it is a nightingale that sings among the branches and leaves of language, It is amazing; it is the clouds, rising out of the sky, and then spreading to the sky, raining down on the fields of life, making the flowers bloom; it is the angel, sent by God to teach people to understand the inspiration of God; it is the oil lamp, the brilliance Splendid, darkness cannot compete with it, and utensils cannot cover it. It is Astarte, the god of love, that fuels it, and Apollo, the god of music, ignites it.

He is alone, alone, clothed in simplicity, and fed on tenderness; he sits in the embrace of nature and learns how to create; when people are quieter, he stays up all night, looking forward to the arrival of inspiration; he is a farmer, The seeds of the soul are sown in the garden of emotions, so there is a good harvest for human beings to harvest and enjoy. This is the poet: when he was alive, people ignored him; but when he bid farewell to this world and returned to his hometown in heaven, people understood his value and his identity.This is the poet: his breath is like a steaming cloud, filling the whole sky with mirage beauty, vivid, magnificent, and gorgeous; and people are so mean to him that he can't get a bread to eat, and can't find a place to sleep.

world!When will you be able to build palaces with honor and let those who water the earth with their blood live in them, when will those who sacrifice all the best in themselves to give you peace and tenderness, Can you no longer look at World Y with cold eyes? Those murderers and tyrants who enslave the people are respected by you and held up to heaven by you; You open your eyes in the dark night and teach you how to appreciate the gorgeous day; they have suffered and tasted all the bitterness in their lives in order to let you enjoy happiness and taste sweetness.How long will this inversion of black and white continue?

Poets, you are the soul of life.Although the years are rough and full of hardships, you are young and live forever; the thorns of hypocrisy have not hurt you, you have won the crown at last, and you have occupied the hearts of people forever and ever: O poets!