"It is difficult to meet and difficult to part; the east wind is powerless and the flowers are withered."
The silkworm spins silk until its death, and the candle burns until it turns to ash.
Looking in the mirror at dawn, I worry about my changing hair; reciting poetry at night, I feel the cold moonlight.
The journey to Penglai Mountain is not far; the bluebird diligently goes to scout ahead!
As Gu Jian's voice faded, the scholars murmured the poem again.
As they read, many people shed tears.
This is a love poem, yet it is filled with sorrow and resonates with readers.
"This poem is truly wonderful. I have read the classics for so many years, and I have never read such a good poem before."
"In this short poem, I felt as if I were witnessing the life of the person in the poem. She suffered unrequited love. I am so heartbroken that she could not reunite with the one she loved."
"It's so touching, I actually cried. How could a grown man like me be moved to tears by a poem?"
"Du Dafu, you actually made me cry. Waaah..."
"..."
At the poetry gathering, some talented men burst into tears.
Unlike Queen Lin Shiyu's feelings.
Many talented men recalled their own days as sycophants.
He secretly loved the goddess in his heart, but could never get her. Before they could achieve success, she ran off with the son of another wealthy family.
Behind the beaded curtain, Lin Shiyu murmured the poem, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness, letting out a sob.
She is sensitive to poetry and understands its artistic conception.
Despite having no romantic experience, she was still deeply moved by poetry, as if she had become the tragic heroine in the poems.
Feng Yantong tried to hold back her tears, but she couldn't, and crystal tears streamed down her face.
The faces of the two poetry critics, Wang Situ and Luo Jingwei, also showed sadness, as if they had just been immersed in poetry.
Ye Chen was dumbfounded by all of this.
Long Jingtian's expression grew increasingly grim.
They all realized that something was very wrong.
After a long while, Queen Lin Shiyu's voice came from behind the beaded curtain. The softness had disappeared, and it was tinged with sadness, as if she had just been sobbing.
"Gentlemen, what do you think of this poem?"
Tang Zhixiang, the young master with kidney deficiency, hurriedly said, "Your Majesty, this poem is wonderful. I, Tang, have read through five thousand years of poetry in the Zhou Kingdom and have never read such a poem."
"This poem is sincere and deeply moving. It would not be an exaggeration to call it the greatest love poem in the world."
"Although I am reluctant to admit it, such a poem is enough to make the state famous and protect the nation!"
"good."
The talented scholars nodded in agreement and began to speak.
"Mr. Zimei, you are truly a great talent, to be able to compose such poems. I admire you."
Lin Shiyu nodded, equally impressed. She then looked at Gu Jian and asked, "Mr. Zimei, does this poem have a title?"
Gu Jian smiled slightly and said, "Since we haven't had time to name it yet, let's just call it Untitled."
It was originally called Untitled, a name given by the Tang Dynasty poet Li Shangyin.
Lin Shiyu was slightly moved; such a beautiful poem was untitled.
But she also felt it was perfectly fitting: an untitled poem, an unspoken emotion.
She was speechless and choked with sobs.
Behind the beaded curtain, Lin Shiyu recited the poem again.
Then, she looked at Luo Jingwei next to Wang Situ and said, "Mr. Luo, next, it will be your turn to comment on this poem, 'Untitled'."
"Yes, Your Majesty! I am extremely honored."
Luo Jingwei was excited when Liu Shiyu asked him to make his judgment.
He believed that such poems would surely be remembered for generations to come.
At this point, he became its critic.
Taking a deep breath, Luo Jingwei tried to suppress the sadness that lingered in his heart.
Then, he slowly said, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is a seven-character love poem! First of all, its literal meaning is—"
"It is difficult to meet, and even more difficult to part, especially in this late spring season when the east wind is weak and all the flowers have withered."
Silkworms spin their cocoons until they die, and candles drip wax like tears until they burn to ashes.
In the morning, as I comb my hair and look in the mirror, I worry only that my cloud-like hair will change color and my beauty will fade. Alone at night, reciting poetry, I cannot sleep and inevitably feel the chill of the moon.
Mount Penglai isn't too far from here, yet there's no road to it. I humbly request a messenger like a bluebird to diligently search for it for me. However, this is only the literal meaning.
"This poem, written from a woman's perspective, expresses the psychology of love. Amidst sadness and pain, it conveys a burning desire and a steadfast spirit of perseverance. The emotional realm is profound, subtle, and rich."
As if it were a poem he had written himself, Luo Jingwei spoke with great pride when commenting.
Seeing that everyone present was focused on him, he continued to talk on and on.
"The first two lines of this poem describe the unfortunate encounter of love and the state of mind of the lyrical protagonist. Due to some force blocking their way, the two lovers are unable to meet, and the pain of separation is unbearable for her."
"The word '别' in the first line does not mean that we are saying goodbye at that moment, but rather that we are forced to separate. The two '难's mean, firstly, that it is difficult to meet again, and secondly, that it is painful and unbearable!"
"Because it is difficult to meet, it is also difficult to part!"
Upon hearing Luo Jingwei's words, the scholars present trembled once again.
His more thorough analysis made them understand the implied meaning of the poems more clearly.
Luo Jingwei stroked his beard, his expression sorrowful, and said, "The next line, 'The east wind is powerless and the flowers are withered,' describes both the natural environment and the state of mind of the lyricist."
"In late spring, the east wind is weak, all the flowers are withering, and the beautiful spring is about to pass. The protagonist in the poem is helpless about this. Her heartache is the same as the flowers that wither away with the passing of spring."
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