Page 172
"Can I hear your poetry first?"
Hastur could not think of a suitable poem for the time being.
He does have a lot of beautiful poems in his mind, but who knows if Russell might have gotten there first.
Wouldn't it be embarrassing if they collided with each other? Let's let Leonard show off his talent first.
"Ok."
Leonard didn't force it, and thought about the second best poem he had written, so that even if he made a fool of himself, he would have a better backup.
"Flying swallows fly across the vast land, tourists are walking along the Rhine River, the cafes on the left bank are still steaming with heat, but you can no longer find the direction to return to your hometown. The riding crop that swipes at the horses loses its hunting ground, and the horse guarding outside the house A hunting dog cannot wait to return to its master..."
Leonard slightly opened the collar of his coat, held a glass of Southwell beer, raised his head slightly and began to sing softly.
His romantic voice was filled with deep sadness, as if he was letting go or reminiscing about something.
The originally playful sounds in the bar have decreased a lot, and everyone is paying attention.
Being noticed by the crowd, Leonard drank a glass of Southwell beer in one gulp and slammed the empty wooden cup on the table with a bang, and his voice became high and aggressive.
When Leonard finished singing, there was applause and cheers from all around.
Several other guests ordered more than a dozen glasses of beer for Leonard. Leonard refused to refuse anyone who came, drank another full glass, and began to sing another of his poetry works.
After singing three poems in succession, Leonard held the wine glass in one hand, bent slightly, and greeted the drinkers in front of him.
Hasta also clapped along. Leonard's poetry level and good voice, in every aspect, surpassed Alger's broken voice and talentless poetry talent.
"It's really fun!"
Leonard took another sip of Southwell beer. His face was slightly red and he was in a high mood. He obviously had a great time drinking tonight.
"Hasta, where are your poems?"
Leonard, who gradually regained his mood, looked at Hastur. Although he did not think that the other party could write a better poem than himself, he was still interested in listening to it.
Hastur brewed for a while and chanted softly: "
The meandering Tasok River
The black horse that flies away in the dust
White lightning that flashes and disappears;
in a hurry
Running wildly
Where are you going if you can't turn back?
You actually ran headlong into a desolate tomb
Waiting for a miracle in sleep
The plump flesh spans the decaying bones
The girl holding flowers in her hands
Who are you waiting for to arrive..."
His voice was very soft, as if he was sighing with emotion or feeling regretful.
Chapter 170 Leonard: The stars are an evil and dangerous terrorist group
织
Silence.
There was no sound.
Leonard opened his mouth slightly and looked at the blond young man in front of him who seemed to be drowning in sadness.
For the first time, he felt that fate was so cruel to allow such a person to appear in front of him.
Tonight, half of the poem that was supposed to belong to me was squeezed away by others, and I seemed to be eclipsed, contrasting with the brilliance of others.
"Ugh."
A heavy sigh came out of Leonard's throat. He had a complicated look on his face. He stared at Hastur for a long time and whispered: "Backlund is worthy of being the city of hope and the place of miracles in the world."
"How about my poem?"
"very good."
Leonard nodded, but seeing that the other person didn't seem proud of it, he asked curiously: "When and under what circumstances did you create this poem?"
"Just now, when you were singing a psalm."
Click.
It seems that something cracked due to external impact.
Leonard looked down and saw, oh, it turned out to be his fragile and sensitive heart.
"That's great."
An incomprehensible smile appeared on Leonard's face, and he said seriously: "Hasta, your talent for poetry is really good, and you are very suitable to become a poet."
"I'm just an amateur, writing poetry is not my specialty."
"..."
Huhu.
There was a gust of wind blowing, and something seemed to be swept away.
Leonard looked into the distance, oh, it turned out that his heart had turned into powder and followed the breeze.
"what happened to you?"
The words of concern made Leonard retract his dull gaze from a distance, put a smile on his face, and said with a smile: "It's okay. I just suddenly thought about something clearly."
"whats the matter?"
"There is no need to be too attached to invisible things in life."
"That's a very reasonable statement. You are indeed an excellent poet."
The smile on Leonard's face became even stronger, so thick that it couldn't be removed, like the thick gouache a clown applied when performing.
It's a pity that I'm not a clown, otherwise I should have completely digested the potion.
After a long time, Leonard finally calmed down after drinking several glasses of Southwell beer. After thinking about it, he asked tentatively: "Hasta, how do you think you should write a good poem?"
Learn to hit the enter key.
Break a complete sentence into two or three paragraphs, and then say some fragments that sound erratic but seem to make sense.
Then mix them together in twos and threes, and finally learn to leave some blank space.
Hastur complained silently in his heart.
"I think a good poem should be true to one's feelings. The richness of human emotions is our greatest weapon, rather than being pretentious and singing old tunes at a young age."
Hastur gave a pretty good suggestion: Poems that can touch people are truly works worthy of being sung.
Emotions, infecting others with true feelings, arousing resonance among readers and listeners, making them immersed in it and unable to extricate themselves for a long time.
As for the piling up and decoration of words, it is just the surface of a poem. The overall structure of the poem is the skeleton, and only emotion is the real soul.
Many poets only have a gorgeous appearance, but they do not have a
An outstanding soul.
Of course, sometimes they even look ugly and lose their skeleton, like a puddle of mud on the ground.
As for the soul?
The shiny black and foul-smelling sewage next to it is.
"Hasta, you should really write poetry and let more people appreciate your works."
Leonard's eyes almost sparkled. As the conversation progressed, he felt more and more that the blond young man in front of him was a genius in writing poetry.
"I'm better at satire and criticism than writing."
Hastur is very self-aware of this.
Seeing that Leonard wanted to persuade him again, Hasta said with a smile: "Emotion is the source of poetry. If you insist on forcing it, you will only lose the beauty of poetry and become a tool for poetry."
"Ok."
Leonard thought this sentence made sense, but he also felt really sorry for Hastur.
If he had this kind of poetry talent, he would wake up laughing in his dreams.
As the two continued to talk, someone not far away talked about the Star Believers.
Now, with the fermentation of the matter, the topic of Star Believers is no longer limited to the extraordinary world, and even ordinary people know a little bit about it.
In their view, this is an emerging cult or a terrorist organization.
All the big things that have happened in Backlund recently were caused by these followers of the stars.
Leonard and Hastur, who listened quietly for a while, looked very unhappy.
The two looked at each other and smiled, and Leonard said deliberately: "Believers of the stars, Backlund seems to be in a popular activity recently to find their traces."
"After all, the rewards are very generous. Even the police station has posted a reward. As long as you find traces or relevant information of the followers of the stars, you can get a considerable reward." Hastur also joined the topic.
"Do you know anything about the Star Cultists?"
"Not sure, what about you?"
"I don't know much about it either. I only came to Backlund recently, so I don't know much about what happens here."
Leonard smiled and acted as if he didn't know anything.
Hasta thought for a moment and said, "I heard that a disciple of the stars has appeared recently, and I don't know what he looks like."
"She should look pretty good."
"Have you met him?"
"I just heard people talking about him. He is said to be good-looking and looks very gentle."