Chapter 1214: Poems

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Many female great sages have small stars in their eyes, cast admiring gazes at Qin Mu, glaring frantically.
I have to say that the poems written by Qin Mu are still a bit level and can be called a talented person.
The Dark Moon Envoy nodded slightly and recognized Qin Mu's achievements. In any case, Qin Mu's poems can be matched. Although not perfect, they are considered excellent works.
"Next!" The Dark Moon Envoy whispered.
Time passed, after Qin Mu finished speaking, no other great saint stood up for a while.
About a minute later, among the crowd, a beautiful woman who looked like a peach blossom came out, with a lot of money and grace, she was the saint of the Motian Sacred Gate, the Great Sage of Hundred Flowers.
With a touch of sorrow hung on her beautiful face, she chanted in a low voice: "Twilight has been in the morning for a few times in the autumn, and I think you will not be sad and sad."
The poems of Hundred Flowers are relatively short, but they cannot conceal her talent.
Two short lines of poems reveal deep grievances.
The Dark Moon Envoy nodded again and again, and spoke highly of the Great Sage of Hundred Flowers.
In terms of achievements, the Great Sage of Hundred Flowers may be able to surpass the Son of the Sun Temple Qin Mu.
Qin Mu's expression was a bit ugly, as if he didn't expect that there was a talented woman present who could make such an excellent poem.
With a "swish", after the Great Sage of Hundred Flowers, another beauty who looked like an immortal came out, but it was the daughter of the Murong family, Murong Yan.
The poems of boudoir complaints are perfect for women, just like the situation of many women.
In the fantasy world, many male warriors are roaming outside, and the wife at home misses it naturally, and is prone to feelings of resentment.
In addition, the men on the prehistoric continent are basically three wives and four concubines, and it is easy to neglect some of them.
In the long-term neglect, it is normal to complain.
"My Dada's horseshoe walked by in the dark moon, the spring breeze does not come, the catkins does not fly, my heart is like a lonely solitary city. My appearance may be a mistake, cover me with a deep curtain, you are in the distant nine-day galaxy , Butterflies outside my window are flying and falling like raindrops.
Murong Yanlian walked through the crowd and read a rather stunning modern poem.
Her poetry has a unique style, no special rhythm, no rhyme, but the use of images is amazing, conveying a faint sorrow in the boudoir.
"Absolutely! Good poem! Good poem! Where did this girl come from? How come I have never seen it before?"
"Her dress looks like Murong Yan, the young lady of the Murong family, but isn't her appearance dreamlike? How can I see it now?"
The crowd admired Murong Yan's performance again and again. There is no doubt that the cultural literacy displayed by Murong Yan is not generally high.
What is even more strange is that Murong Yan's appearance has already torn away that layer of mystery, presenting the real appearance in front of everyone.
Murong Yan's talent was recognized by everyone. The Dark Moon Envoy of the Saint King realm nodded repeatedly, thinking that Murong Yan's achievements were outstanding.
However, the poetry competition is still going on, and many great saints present have published their own poems.
Even if it's some crappy poems or limericks, there is no way, anyway, a poem is going to be published.
With the passage of time, in the blink of an eye, more than 600 people completed their poems.
The remaining hundreds of people are basically rough guys, rash guys, and they don't have much culture. They can't even make limericks and can only give up.
Among the more than six hundred people who wrote poems, each poem is registered.
The Darkmoon Messenger offered a booklet to compile the poems of the contestants into a book.
In the end, it is not the Darkmoon Envoy alone who can decide who gets the best results. It is necessary to call other Darkmoon Envoys for a meeting.
After all, poetry is too subjective, and there is no fixed scoring standard, so it is better to call more Darkmoon Messengers to score together.
Most of the educated great sages who were present had completed the creation of poems, but Ye Qing was the only one left, still waving the folding fan in his hands.
The dark moon messenger's gaze was projected, paying attention to Ye Qing's situation. In the dark moon messenger's impression, Ye Qing was an out-and-out talent, and he would definitely be able to make better poems.
If it were others, Dark Moon Envoy would not take the initiative to ask, and Ye Qing would be different.
"Sorry, Darkmoon Messenger, I want to ask, can I submit a lot of poems? Regarding poems on the subject of complaints, I can write three thousand poems casually!" Ye Qing said arrogantly.
Hearing Ye Qing's arrogant remarks, Dark Moon Envoy was a little confused.
A poem by others is choking, Ye Qing directly has 3,000? That's a bit too exaggerated!
"Tang Bohu, then I will give you ten minutes. How many poems you can make depends on your level!" The Dark Moon Messenger said slowly.
Ye Qing chuckled, as far as the level of poetry is concerned, if he is called second, no one in the entire prehistoric continent would dare to be the first!
While on the earth, Ye Qing read 300 Tang poems profusely.
Ye Qing can basically recite all kinds of Tang poems and Song Ci!
After coming to the Primordial Continent, Ye Qing gained a god-level comprehension, and his attainments in various poems became even more profound!
Three thousand poems are still relatively small. In Ye Qing's memory, let alone three thousand poems, even thirty thousand can be said.
Stepping out, Ye Qing gently waved a folding fan in his hand, graceful, and slowly said: "If life is just like the first time, what is the autumn wind and sad fan. Waiting for leisure to change, but the heart of the old, but the old heart is easy to change. "
One of Ye Qing’s poems was amazing, and people nodded their heads in awe!
Compared with Ye Qing, the previous poems are completely scum.
Just kidding, Ye Qing traveled across the earth. The Chinese nation has a rich cultural heritage. All kinds of poems and songs are displayed in the fantasy world. It is amazing and brilliant, and no one can surpass it.
The dark moon messenger's eyes were surprised. He didn't expect that Ye Qing really had such an amazing talent to make such wonderful poems!
Every word is exquisite, the artistic conception is timeless, the meaning is profound, the aftertaste is endless, and the lingering sound is around!
"Tang Bohu, don't you have other poems? Why don't you tell them and listen to them?" The Dark Moon Envoy said.
Ye Qing smiled slightly, satisfied the dark moon messenger's request, waved the folding fan in his hand, and slowly said: "The screen window sunset is gradually going to dusk, and no one sees tears in the golden house. The lonely empty courtyard is spring night, and the pear blossoms will not open the door."
It is also a classic poem of complaints, which perfectly fits the theme. The two poems created by Ye Qing are undoubtedly stunning and stunning!
The Great Sage of Hundred Flowers and Murong Yan in the crowd had brilliant eyes and admired Ye Qing.
Ye Qing's talent is impressive. The Great Sage of the Flowers and Murong Yan are both educated ladies, and they like to chant poems on weekdays. Ye Qing's talent in poetry undoubtedly conquered them.
"Tang Bohu, your two poems are of very high level, are there any others?" The Dark Moon Envoy asked again.
In the dark moon messenger's big beautiful eyes, flashing all the way, full of expectation.
From the eyes of the Dark Moon Envoy, Ye Qing is definitely the most educated and literary one among the great sages present!
"Of course, my boudoir complaints poems can speak from day to night. As long as you are willing to listen, the capital of 33 million is not a problem." Ye Qing smiled lightly, his folding fan demeanor, and the modest gentleman's demeanor, admirable.
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