Liu is only one year older than me, but he is far ahead of me in organizational ability. He served as the chairman of Cangnan Federation of Literary and Art Circles for many years, and his literary activities were vigorous. The number of poets in Cangnan is a landscape in the whole province. Through various literary activities, a large number of literary lovers have gathered, many of whom have embarked on the road of literary writing. Went to Cangnan to participate in several literary activities. When Wu De talked about how some local police chiefs, government officials and farmers became literary friends, their original simple faces lit up at once. This is not only his achievement beyond creation, but also his dream of creating a literary county. Although this is not the best way for poets and writers to create, he is in his position, and I understand his simplicity and obsession with ideal reality.
Today, I deeply regret that we are all in the same area, only 100 kilometers apart, but we can't have more exchanges. Most poets in Wenzhou like silence. They are busy with work during the day and bury themselves in reading and writing at night. Even if they have the opportunity to meet, they seldom talk about poetry seriously. Other writers and poets, including Wang Shuo and Ma Xu, are older than us and have made achievements in writing, but they are ashamed to express their views. I want to know whether shyness causes caution and rigor or intensifies shyness. Poets and writers in Wenzhou are used to their place in life, and the language used to illuminate their destiny will only appear when they face themselves. The lack of artistic communication also makes us unable to read and understand each other in time. For Wu De's in-depth reading, we can only start from this specific time. "Digging the spiritual world is like gaining the right to life." Now, I can only read Wu De's poems, so that a dead poet can return to his beloved nature with poetic voice.
When I read Liu's recently published poems Dream Back and Your Breast is My Home, especially Dream Back, I was deeply shocked. I think he has finished the most important poem in the poet's life. In this collection, he used 150 poems to talk to a fellow spirit he respected, but at the same time he broke through the shackles of reality. The voice he hid in the secret pamphlet stayed behind, echoing in the dull air alone and permanently.
I'm sorry that I didn't talk to him face to face about the poem he wrote to Xie Yun. The weight of this whole collection of poems made me see another Liu in my life. In the poem, he is so simple and simple, full of warm pillows. He wrote a letter in the vegetable market and got a call from Xie Yun. In order to comfort his homesickness, he repeatedly said, "What's so good about such a small place as Cangnan?" He felt that it was not appropriate to draw the shape of a tomato in the air by hand, but also to draw the shape of a sesame seed, while continuing to shout: Beijing ... a poet who bought food in the southern vegetable market reached out and drew a lonely circle in the void that he was not sure about, comforting a fellow calligrapher who was far away in the north. I don't know what kind of life practice and thinking Liu has in recent years. Judging from these poems, reading in the study is out of reach. After searching between the lines of poetry for more than 20 years, he finally found a voice that belongs to him: solid and distinct, simple and pure. This is a stream of living water, and all its sources are directly connected with the soul-
This crisp morning, I walked out of the crowd.
The first one walked into the country road and disappeared into the jungle.
The first one spoke to the dew hanging on the pine needle.
I've been talking, and Dew has been listening.
Their quietness and patience are several times that of me and the people I respect.
What the hell did I say? Don't remember anymore.
I only remember that the more I talked, the more depressed I became.
The more you talk, the more you want to cry, like being in a foreign land and homesick.
Suddenly meet relatives.
I looked at the tits that kept barking.
Tits' small heads are slightly tilted to sunny places.
Like shanjun; I broke into the house and they panicked.
Try to make me feel that they are friendly to me.
It's just that I'm getting more and more ashamed
I feel more and more like an asshole in the world.
I listened to their enthusiastic shouts.
Silly, also want to call out from the bottom of my heart.
-"thank you cloud"
This is a simple and emotional poem. Writing such a poem shows that this harmonious melody has solved the disorder and confusion that poets may encounter. "On this crisp morning, I walked out of the crowd/I was the first to step into the country road, I hid in the jungle/I was the first to talk to the dew hanging on the pine needles." From these lines, we can feel that the poet has taken on so many whispers that he wants to tell a secret to a dewdrop, and finally he even wants to call out one or two like a titmouse. "The desire of things is to become his language" (Rilke), which is a call heard by a poet, lifting the dew and tits on country roads and pine needles from an unknown morning to a close connection with the essence of existence.
We need someone to talk to, someone to describe the meaning of nature and the mystery of life, and someone to find a gap for stagnant and congested things. Liu found this object: Cangnan calligrapher and poet. The poet began to associate with Xie Yun in 200 1. The old man's artistic pursuit and emotion aroused the poet's ardent admiration. After reading Xie Yun's works, the poet got "a heavy surprise". I guess, there is the admiration of the younger generation, the mission of the poet, the morning and evening of life, and the road to the outside world:
There is a bird in the sky, like a small hole.
Drop by drop, let out a cry.
Who is hiding and crying? Ah, as soon as you sit down
Birds are closer. One by one.
One is a bird, and the next one is only about you.
-"The sun shines on the roof and the light beads jump"
The hidden gap between the pre-sound and the post-sound can only be expressed in words, especially the "post-sound" The vividness and sincerity of the poet's mind are amazing. The sound made at this moment has mysterious power, like an instigated bird with a golden and wonderful spring hidden in its mouth.
Only a simple mind who knows how to love can have such absurd ideas, and only after experiencing the double loss and heaviness of this shore and the other shore will another picture of "the spirit of fire" rise in the heart:
An egret, it feels good to fly into the sky.
Fly neatly into the sky, without the need for a brush and inkstone to follow.
-"Chasing Egrets through Three Temples"
Even if there is only half an acre of land, it is only enough to plant a crooked-necked tree.
I will still keep my hometown in my heart.
Time and time again, tell you in detail, thank you.
-"hometown"
The heart of rice paper was dug out. An old man far from home.
He has white hair, and his arms are buried with the elegance and desire of pines and cypresses.
Dewdrops at night cling to the branches and leaves in the morning, and they
There is still something to say. If you say it, you will know that this is the blessing of the elderly.
-"A drop of clear tears, spinning in the world"
This is not to achieve the deep affection of a poem, but to humble others' lives, to be full of deep affection for life, and to write the history of others' hearts with passion. If you don't have enough strength, it's probably hard for ordinary people to do it. In the process of writing, he caught up with the person being written. However, I was attracted by the blank space hidden behind the poet's words. I always thought that at the critical moment, it was the master who knew how to use a silent voice:
"Please forgive a heavy stone/still buried deep in a thousand-year-old pine forest" (Holding Trees)
"Old man, the problem he is thinking about/Let the bait automatically fall off and straighten the hook" "To an old man who has experienced vicissitudes"
"Before the crowded exhibition/you repeatedly advised yourself to walk into the narrow alley" "advised yourself to go away" "Your brush hair brushed lightly/the paper said that you had just cried" "Time"
"I haven't fully understood/why does the mind move so calmly?" "The mind is moving"
I stayed in front of these lines for a long time, and the day when I wrote these poems was an important day for Liu. I didn't mean to decipher more, so I made footnotes for some beautiful poems. I only know that I missed the communication with an excellent poet. I guess when he wrote a series of poems for Xie Yun, he must have great joy in his heart. Wu De is a person who knows what a really good poem is and what kind of poem completely conforms to his temperament, so he must be very excited. Who did he tell all this happiness to? I asked some poetry friends who were close to him, but I didn't seem to hear much about Wu De's recent writing. He must have shared this joy with his fairy tale writer wife. After all, behind the poets who are addicted to the spiritual world, there is always a solid secular door guarding the purity of the soul, so they are eager to have someone who has this key to communicate, inspire and share.
Now he has opened all the doors by himself and can come in and out freely. He has always been a low-key and reserved poet. After his unexpected death, people including me learned to interpret him with introspective eyes:
Let me take one last look at them before the storm comes.
These trees stand in the wind, bringing them peace.
What a luxury! Thank you. They are interested in mountains.
I've been grateful a million times.
I talked about their expectations before the rainstorm.
Those who are timid will become bullfrogs early.
Hiding in a gap in the jungle. Thank you for the fright caused by the strong wind.
They like to ignore. "It's a big deal to break your waist!"
-"Before the Storm"
What a heavy rain! Now it is a painful prophecy. If possible, his relatives and friends would rather he didn't write such a poem, hide in the gap of the jungle to avoid this disaster, and then write the unfinished poem. But Wu De must know our prayers, and he has written down his response. His nature chose him to be a "quiet tree":
Step on the fallen leaves with your feet. The leaves are thick, thank you.
Trampled by my heart, heard by trees.
Like a little fist
The little fist hit the tree in the chest, and the tree refused to cry.
Thank you, my eyes are full of tears.
I shouted through the fallen leaves: tree, tree.
Trees can't turn away. I stood in the distance.
Looking at the tree to thank the old, the tree is calm.
We can't learn to pretend as if nothing happened.
-"The Tree of Peace"
Reading these poems needs new tears to accompany the old ones. Only the words I wrote know that my music player has been playing requiem, a poet I deeply agree with, and his enthusiastic figure has gone to a place far away from the hubbub and no one has disturbed him. But when we hold our breath, we can hear him:
-The world is bright. Ah, how I long for it
Is a person who follows the sun; Towards dusk
People in tears. I have a homesick tear to take with me.
-"Homesickness? 10 June 10 Xie Yun "
What a heavy homesick tear this is!
Rest in peace! Brother Wu De!
20 10-07-3 1