As the originator of China's poetry culture, The Book of Songs has been circulated for more than two thousand years, which can be said to be integrated into the cultural blood of our nation through the ages.
Anyone who has read the Book of Songs knows that it covers a wide range of contents and records the "pop music" that spanned hundreds of years and involved various countries in the Eastern Zhou Dynasty.
They have poems about love, sweet and beautiful;
There are poems praising virtuous and handsome, which make people feel "comfortable";
Irony about current politics and hurting the world make you feel the same;
Accusing heartless men of abandoning their wives and children, we curse love rat.
Others wrote about unrequited love, war and sacrifice.
Today, I will tell you something unpopular, about complaining about overtime in the Book of Songs.
Confucius once commented on 300 poems in The Book of Songs. In a word, he said he was innocent.
That shows that Mr. Confucius is too tired to work overtime, and complaining is "essential"
There are two poems in The Book of Songs, which say that work is too tired and life is too heavy. Let's talk in turn.
First, "Taifeng North Gate"
From the north gate, I'm worried. I am poor after all, and I don't know that I am difficult.
What is this? What is this?
The military affairs suit me, and the political affairs benefit me.
I went in and out, and everyone in the room handed me over.
What is this? What is this?
Wang Shidun, I, and political affairs left me.
I went in and out, and everyone in the room ruined me.
What is this? What is this?
Let me help describe the general meaning and situation of this poem:
At 7 o'clock in the evening, Xiao Wang got off work, came out of the palace, crossed the market and went out from the north gate. At this time, his mood was very sad. Because my family is not rich, I don't buy a house in the city, I can't earn much money in a month, and I walk in rags on the busy streets. Who knows the bitterness and difficulty in my heart?
The Wangs' errands are all given to me. I am as busy as a bee every day, but my business is getting more and more. I'm tired enough. Go home for a period of time, who understands me at home, either let me do this or let me do that. I just want to lie quietly on the kang and have a rest. My father scolded me and my wife scolded me.
I haven't finished the work I took the day before yesterday, and today the leader came to urge me. The pressure of working every day is enough, but I can't make much money. Laugh at me for spending money every time I go home. In that case, forget it. God has made such an arrangement. what can I do?
This passage can be seen from the description of the living conditions of ancient office workers.
Xiao Wang is a humble little official, complaining about his living and working conditions.
His heart is full of sadness and sadness. No one understands him, but in order to survive, he can only comfort himself.
Eight words' I' are used in the poem, and you feel his depression and bitterness without complaint. This is similar to how many people are busy with work now.
Second, "Zhao Nan Xiaoxing"
The star is dark, the star is dark, and the star is three stars.
Susu night sign, staying up late in public, life is different.
Xiao Xiaoxing was faint, so it was ginseng and willow.
Su Su's night sign, clinging to shackles and shackles, is not enough.
The protagonist in this poem is not much better off than the last one. At four or five in the morning, the little stars in the sky gathered in the east in twos and threes, and Xiao Li got up early before dawn.
I have to go to work from morning till night every day, busy with this business. Every day, I wear a star Dai Yue to catch up with my family at night. However, I also work, and people have different fates. My busy salary every day is pitiful, and I have to be looked down upon!
Get up early again, or those stars. Today, Xiao Li found that Pleiades and Canxing hung there with me every day! . Go out early and come back late every day, lift the quilt out of bed, and have to go to work quickly. Maybe this is fate. What can I complain about?
Both of these poems show us the arduous work of the little people in that era and the process of gradually losing themselves. They work hard day and night, and they don't even know what they are doing, but the long-term work has formed a strong sense of oppression on their body and mind, but in the end they all go to compromise and can only say, "It's God's will, what can I do?"
This is the case in ancient and modern times. How many people are not in the same state and mentality as them?