In four years of college, I wrote more poems than typed code. My university major is software engineering , but I don’t love these. I love poetry.
Chen Bo is a buddy I met in the school literary club, but that literary club is a "public-private partnership". After two years of joining the club, there has been no movement. The only two activities were to write blackboard newspapers for the affiliated middle school; the members of the club also They are all outrageous. Their interests are all in online literature, and they have no common interests at all. Among these people, Chen Bo is the only exception. He joined an "underground poetry club" outside school, but he said that he can love poetry or not; he will love poetry if it can bring love, but he will love poetry if it cannot. He doesn't love it.
During that time, I wrote poems and submitted them everywhere, but nothing came of them. I urgently needed a chance to prove myself. So I asked Chen Bo what activities the underground poetry society held. Chen Bo said that there happened to be a poetry-passing activity in the afternoon. What do I mean? What Chen Bo said is similar to beating drums to pass flowers. Choose a word or character, and others must recite a poem according to the requirements. It doesn't matter whether it is original or not.
Chen Bo and I went to the poetry club, but we didn’t want to hang around for a long time. He stopped at a billiard hall. I was wondering why you came here? Playing billiards would be detrimental to my temperament. Chen Bo said to make do with it, the president’s father is the owner of a billiards hall. I said "oh". Chen Bo took me through the smoke-shrouded billiards hall, and then stopped in a warehouse-like place. He knocked on the iron door with his hand, and the iron door made a dull sound. I looked at the shirtless men around me with some fear, thinking that this guy was trying to sell me out. After a while, the iron door creaked and a small crack was revealed, and a thin boy wearing gold-rimmed glasses showed his head. After seeing me, he asked Chen Bo who was this? Chen Bo said that this is my buddy Liu Ye, who is extremely powerful and not inferior to the former Hai Zi. Then, he stepped aside and gave in, saying that this person was the president of the underground poetry society, he was well-known, and he had the style of Beidao back then. After Chen Bo finished speaking, I was about to shake hands with him, but "Bei Dao" just nodded and said welcome, it's getting late, come in quickly.
I entered the door and saw a long table under dim lights. There were five or six people sitting next to it, both men and women. The lights were dim and the atmosphere was a bit awkward. Chen Bo put his arm around my shoulders and introduced me to the others: a college student and a fan of poetry. He is expected to be able to hold down today's event. I quickly said no, no, no. We sat down at a rectangular table. Screaming and the sound of billiard balls could be heard outside the room. A fat man stepped forward and closed the door tightly, and the sound suddenly became much quieter.
After a while, Chen Bo used his traditional skills and moved to the side to chat with the girl. I am not sociable by nature, so I could only sit there awkwardly in a daze. Soon, "Bei Dao" clapped his hands and said that we will start the poetry passing activity. Today's word is "youth". Both metrical poetry and free verse are acceptable. According to the rules, new comers will be asked to sing first after ten minutes. . After hearing this, I was stunned and a little panicked. I rubbed my hands secretly and asked Chen Bo in a low voice if his singing was not good or was it okay. Chen Bo was chatting with a girl next to him at this time, and said without looking back, anything is fine, it doesn't get in the way. I closed my eyes, tried my best to calm myself, and started to mobilize my brain cells to create.
Unfortunately, after ten minutes, I stood up awkwardly and muttered, "The youth that has slipped away is making us ugly." There were a few sparse bursts of applause in the dim light. Then a girl wearing a gray T-shirt with plastic diamonds all over it stood up and said, "President, I'll take over." The president nodded, and the girl cleared her throat and said, youth, youth, my youth is light, electricity, and logs with fire. When my youth grows old, I am full of reluctance. When my youth comes back, I know it can only be a dream. The girl groaned, stretched out her right hand, and tilted her face. When she sat down, she glanced at me with a smile. I felt a little uncomfortable and quickly turned my face away.
The next person to stand up was the fat man who was closing the door. Before he read the poem, he gave me a pile of resumes. I smiled awkwardly at him. His poems were nothing but romantic. Until the end, no one's poems could make people's hearts move. After a few minutes of rest after the round, I thought there was still activity, but the president said, OK, our activities for today are over.
I was stunned and asked Chen Bo if it was gone?
Chen Bo said, otherwise?
I sighed and prepared to leave with everyone. At this moment, the iron door suddenly rang again, and the fat man closest to the door stood up impatiently. The white light emanating from the door was very dazzling, and a girl wearing white short-sleeves came in. The girl asked the president if I came too late. The president said, you can leave before you say anything. Our topic today is "Youth". The girl in white short-sleeves nodded and said, sorry, everyone, I just finished playing badminton with my friends, I want to drink some water first. The girl in white short-sleeves drank the water, paused, and then said slowly:
Youth is a dull axe.
There was silence for a while. Finally, the president asked, what does this metaphor mean? The girl with white short sleeves said that when they were young, everyone thought they were a sharp axe, able to cut off all thorns; but unfortunately, it was not until later that everyone discovered that the ax is blunt and will only become weaker as it cuts, eventually melting into the soil. among. This metaphor shocked me. In an instant, it felt as if a blunt ax really hit my heart, and a feeling of powerlessness and illusion was evaporating.
I stood there blankly, and I didn't wake up until the sound of billiards came from outside the door again. The girl in white short-sleeves had disappeared. I quickly called Chen Bo. Chen Bo asked impatiently, who? I said, white short sleeves, the one who said youth is a blunt axe. Chen Bo said he was leaving. Did he fall in love with her? I said no. Chen Bo smiled obscenely and said, pull him down. I could see it. But I'm really not familiar with her. I've been here once before. Chen Bo lowered his voice at this time and said that the girl wearing sandals and short sleeves with diamonds is interested in you. I was stunned and said, aren’t we here to discuss serious poetry and care about the future of Chinese poetry? Chen Bo frowned and said, "You can care about whatever you want. No one can stop you from caring about food and vegetables." By the way, your ax probably hasn't gone far yet, so I want to catch up.
I left the cubicle and walked through the crowded billiards hall. When I went upstairs, the sun outside was blinding. The girl in white short-sleeves has disappeared, but the girl with diamonds in her dress has not left yet. She came over and asked me shyly, would my classmate want to add me on WeChat? I smiled awkwardly, waved my hand and said no, and asked casually, did you see where the girl in white short-sleeves went? The girl's face changed drastically after hearing this, and she said she didn't see it, and you probably wouldn't be able to find it either. I scratched my head and left, feeling empty.
In the days that followed, I went to the underground poetry club several times, but I never met that white short-sleeved girl again. Later, I took the teaching qualification certificate and became a teacher. The billiard hall was also converted into a gym, and the compartments inside were opened up into storage rooms, filled with barbells and dumbbells. I think that evening, that poem, and the dull feeling brought by the knife and ax will never appear again. (Author Wang Daye)
