Cold Food Post has the reputation of the third running script in the world, and its artistic level is also quite high. At the beginning of the opening, the writing is gentle and the font is correct. Later, due to the change of feelings, the writing style and the writing style of the works have undergone dramatic changes. The words are getting bigger and bigger, and the brushwork is getting more and more urgent. The most wonderful thing is that in the middle, feelings are as irresistible as volcanic eruptions, and finally they return to a gentle state. When Su Shi wrote this work, he was at the low tide of his life because he was exiled. "Your door is nine times deep and your grave is in Wan Li. I'm going to cry and paint (the road) poor, and I can't afford to blow it! " .
Huangzhou Cold Food Poetry Post presents a dynamic trend with ups and downs. Poetry is desolate and melancholy, and calligraphy is produced in this mood and situation. Throughout the ups and downs, rapid and steady, incisively and vividly, in one go. Su Shi put the changes of artistic conception and emotion in his poems in the changes of stippling lines, either before or after, changing and changing, breaking with the trend, and being natural. Its words are also strange, big or small, sparse or dense, light or heavy, wide or narrow, uneven, arbitrary and strange, and varied.
"Huangzhou Cold Food Poetry Post" was written by Su Shi. It is a plain book in ink, with a horizontal length of 34.2 cm, a vertical length of 18.9 cm, 17 lines of running script and 129 characters.
Huangzhou Cold Food Poetry Post Original:
I have had three cold meals since I came to Huangzhou. Cherish spring, want to keep spring, and manage spring from self-management to no one regrets. This year also suffered from continuous rain, for two months, the climate was bleak as autumn. Sniff begonia flowers and swallow branches of snow. Sneaking around in the middle of the night is really something. He Shu's sick teenager had a white start.
The riverside is surging, as if to rush into the portal, and the fierce attack of heavy rain seems not bad. The hut is like a fishing boat, in a misty water cloud. The empty kitchen is cooking some cold dishes, and damp reeds are burning at the bottom of the stove. I didn't know it was a cold food, but I saw crows burning the remaining paper money. The emperor's palace gate has nine floors, which is far-reaching and difficult to return. The tombs of ancestors in the distance cannot be mourned. I just want to imitate Ruan Ji and cry out in despair, but I am disheartened and unwilling to rekindle.