Zheng Min
When I sit at the window, when I look at people walking in a hurry in the street,
your young eyes will appear in front of me,
friends, at that time we were all so intoxicated
Youth indulged us like a favored mother.
We are stepping on the moonlight on the green lake embankment.
Honeysuckle is as sweet as poetry. We seem to be
walking in a dream, with a stone path like white marble,
a half-closed wooden window, whispering quietly behind the window ...
Friends, our nerves and blood vessels
are like veins on green leaves, sucking morning dew,
It's not my eyes either,
it's our young yesterday, its tender leaves,
its soft branches, its poetic fragrance,
the fragrance of white wood flowers and honeysuckle flowers?
They are still in our blood, trembling at our nerve endings, and we remember
the young existence that we had.
It is selected from Poems by Zheng Min. The poet of Beijing Normal University Press
said that she was lucky and knew what she wanted when she was young. Because my family is enlightened, I was born at the beginning of the last century, but I was not contaminated with feudal ideas. I loved to think independently since I was a child and was deeply influenced by western culture.
Fortunately, she has the spirit of a mentor. After being admitted to the Philosophy Department of The National SouthWest Associated University, he benefited from poets such as Feng Zhi, Wen Yiduo and Bian Zhilin, and began to contact new poetry. She often ran to Feng Zhi's house and listened to them talk about poetry, which was the enlightenment of wisdom. She just sat there, indulging in spiritual feasts.
Feng Zhi's affirmation made her firmly embark on the "lonely road" of poetry. Youth is infected with "poetic fragrance", and she seems to be in a dream. It is youth illuminated by philosophy and poetry, fanatical and rational, free and charming.
Together with Mu Dan and Du Yunxie, she is known as the "Three Stars among The National SouthWest Associated University Poets", which is the bright beginning. When people are young, there should always be a kind of disregard, and there should always be a dreamlike madness, always trembling in the "nerve endings."
from a poem I read to you.