Burying Flowers (Chapter 27) Lin Daiyu
Flowers fade, flowers fly all over the sky, who pity the red incense?
The hairspring floats softly in the spring pavilion ③, and the hair falls ④ and touches the embroidered curtain lightly.
The daughter in the boudoir cherishes the dusk of spring, and her sad face is full of nowhere to release;
Hand ⑥ hoe the flowers out of the embroidered curtain, and endure ⑥ step on the flowers back and forth?
The pods of willows and elms come from wheat straw (2), whether peach blossoms float or Li Fei;
Peaches and plums can be delivered next year. Who do you know in the boudoir next year?
The fragrant nest has been built in March, and Liang Jianyan is too heartless!
Although you can peck flowers and hairs next year, it is not easy for people to go to the empty nest.
360 days a year, the wind and sword are pressing;
When will it shine? Once you drift, it's hard to find.
Bloom is easy to see but hard to find, smothering the flowers in front of the steps;
Only the flower hoe shed tears in the darkness, and blood was seen on the branches above.
The cuckoo was silent at dusk, and the lotus hoe returned to cover the heavy door;
When the blue light shone on the wall, people began to sleep, but the window was not warm.
Strange slave bottom (4) Things hurt twice? Half out of pity, half out of trouble;
Flow spring suddenly to bother, and to silence.
There was a sad song outside the court last night. Do you know it is the soul of flowers and birds?
It is always difficult to leave the soul of a bird, which feels ashamed of itself.
May slaves grow wings under their ribs and fly to the end of the sky with flowers.
After all, where is Xiangshan?
If there is no trick, you will hide the wind in the pure land;
It is better to be frank and lenient than to sink into the ditch.
I died today, and I don't know when I will be buried.
The man who buried the flowers is laughing today, but who did he know when he buried them?
Just watch the spring flowers gradually fall, it is the time when the beauty dies of old age;
No sad songs for me, I don't know what happened!
(2) The two sentences "Flowers wither and flowers fly all over the sky, and the red disappears and the fragrance is broken" may be inspired by Li Heshi's "Spring flies all over the sky" ("Going to the clouds").
(3) [Pavilion] A house built on the stage.
④ Flocculate catkin and Liu Hua.
(5) 【 Nowhere to release 】 Nowhere to send.
6. Take it.
7 [Endure] Endure.
The fruit of elm. Before the elm leaves, its pods are yellowish, like strings of money, commonly known as elm money.
(2) [Wheat Straw] Flowers and plants are fragrant.
(3) 【 Spilling blood on the branches above 】 is related to two legends: First, ChristianRandPhillips cried and tears stained the bamboo branches. So Daiyu was named "Princess Xiaoxiang". Second, Emperor Shu turned the cuckoo into a soul, with blood stained with flowers, and the flowers were azaleas. So the next sentence goes on to say "cuckoo"
(4) [bottom] What, what.
(5) Know where it is, know where it is ... or ...
6. [Xiang Qiu] Xiangfen refers to Hua Zhong. It is personified by flowers, so the next sentence uses "Yan Gu".
⑦ [one (pó u)] one. Because "Changling takes a handful of soil" to represent the excavation of the tomb, later generations (such as Luo in the Tang Dynasty) called this tomb "a handful of soil". It is used here to refer to Hua Zhong.
⑧ á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á á 1
The idiom "I" is often used in folk songs of Wu Yuefu.
Attending [divination] prediction.
Distinguish and appreciate
Burying Flowers is Lin Daiyu's masterpiece lamenting her life experience, and it is also an important work by Cao Xueqin to shape this artistic image and show her personality characteristics. It is the same as the author's Daughter of the Lotus. This song, which imitates the songs of the early Tang Dynasty in style, is lyrical and incisive, and it is very successful in art.
This poem is not only sad and sorrowful, but also has a feeling of oppression. "Liu Cong Fang Fei Chang, regardless of peach floating or Li Fei", there is resentment against the cold world, but also attachment to human feelings. "360 days a year, the wind, the sword and the frost are pressing each other hard", isn't that an indictment of the ruthless reality that has persecuted her for a long time? "May slaves have wings and fly to the end of the day with flowers. After all, where is Xiangshan? Hide the wind without a trick. It's better to lead an honest and clean life than to be trapped in a ditch ",which is the kind of aloof character who is unwilling to be humiliated and polluted and unwilling to bow his head and yield when freedom and happiness are not available." "These are its ideological values.
The style of this poem imitates the poems of the early Tang Dynasty, and it is a popular and popular poetic style, with concise and fluent words, repeated syllables and smooth lyricism. For example, "Flowers change color this year, who will bloom next year" and "Flowers are similar year after year, but people of different ages" in Liu Xiyi's "Waiting for the North Pulsatilla" in the early Tang Dynasty is enough to show that Cao Xueqin used this method in writing "Burying Flowers". As for the plot of burying flowers, in the Ming Dynasty, Tang Yin buried peony flowers on the east bank of the medicine column with a trick, and Xue Qin's grandfather Cao Yin wrote a poem "Burying Peach Blossoms in a Hundred Years", which can also stimulate the author's imagination. However, when A Dream of Red Mansions came out, Daiyu's burial of flowers almost completely replaced similar descriptions in the past, which also showed her artistic success.
Listen to the funeral song of A Dream of Red Mansions.
Suddenly, tears fell like rain-big tears trickled down my cheeks, full of beads, rolling down, rolling down. . .
Every word is a song full of blood, tears and crying!
Soften the stiff heart, soak it, and wake it up ―― Like morning dew, water vapor condenses to the end, one by one, showing and revealing.
Listen, cry and knock down the mood at this time.
Tears are sometimes not painful companions, messengers of sadness and tears, or interruptions of sadness. In the tears at this time, it is a touch, a touch, a tacit understanding with distant souls, and a rhyme with that sound. The dusty hearts mirror each other, reading that she has me, reading that I look like her, but not that I am not her.
"Flowers fade, flowers fly all over the sky, and red incense is pitiless. . . The person who buried the flowers today is stupid, but he knew who it was when he buried the flowers in 2008. . . It is better to be clean than to be dirty and hide in the ditch. . . "
There have been some thoughts and ideas lurking in my heart for a long time, but they are scattered, invisible, or weak, never caught, never ignored, never discovered. At this point, the rhyme is full, just like a supernatural mirror. A normal person sinks in front of it, as if being flashed by. Then, the thin cymbals of the unopened heart, like pearls, curled up and splashed, reflecting a clear halo, so the heart suddenly changed its inherent state and sublimated into a fresh and soft spirit, full of sadness and joy.
This kind of singing cuts open a person's dusty and clean inner yearning, or dyes the heart more noble, separates vulgar things from disturbing the original beauty, and slowly sings into a heart song. . . Fragments hidden in my heart, once surging, once neglected sighs, fleeting songs, falling dust, sad figures, undercurrents and dreams, piled up like a storm, singing shocking tears. . .
In the mourning song, the latent heart shadow emerges, and the hidden emotional existence in the soul is illuminated. It will grow out, perhaps an idea, a sentence, some feelings, a joy, a tear!
Slowly, in this sound word, thin cymbals are tied up and tangled into a line, which leads to a fiber-sensitive understanding.
Weak, lonely, clean, tossing and turning petals, sweeping the human body, wrapped in a virgin-like clean body, parked and walked, gently shallow, full of spiritual cohesion, painstaking efforts, one by one, transparent tears. . . Sadness and joy overlap carefully.
Flowers are the cleanest natural things, which match with people. I think only those who are not contaminated with dust, lead to clear channels and meet the essence of the soul, one by one. . .
Tears flow like this, and my mind is bright and clean, as if it had been washed and gained a new life. . . Can I send a text message to Hua Ti at this time? . .
I just sat in this song and didn't want to leave for a long time.