Coal in the stove? Feelings for the motherland. "
Guo Moruo
Ah, my lady!
I will live up to your hospitality,
And don't let me down.
I'm doing this for the people I love.
Burn like this!
Ah, my lady!
You should know my predecessor.
Don't you think I am a reckless slave?
Want me to be a slave,
As long as there is a heart like fire.
Ah, my lady!
I think my predecessor
Originally a useful pillar,
I've been buried alive for years,
Only now have I seen the light of day again.
Ah, my lady!
Ever since I saw the light again,
I often miss my hometown,
I'm doing this for the people I love.
Burn like this!
(Written in 1920)
Guo Moruo (1892- 1978), a modern writer, historian and one of the founders of the New Poetry School, is the representative work of The Complete Works of Guo Moruo, The Study of Oracle Inscriptions and China Historical Manuscripts.
in a word
Wen Yiduo
There is a saying that it is a curse.
There is a saying that you can light a fire.
Although no one has said it for 5 thousand years,
Can you guess the silence of the volcano?
Maybe he was suddenly possessed,
Suddenly, there was a thunderbolt in the blue sky.
Explosion:? Our China! ?
What should I say today?
You don't believe that Cycas blooms,
So there is a sentence you listen to:
When the volcano couldn't help being silent,
Don't tremble, stick out your tongue and stamp your feet.
Wait until the blue sky thunders.
Explosion:? Our China! ?
(Written in 1928)
Wen Yiduo (1899- 1946) is a representative poet and scholar of the crescent school, and his representative works include Song of Seven Sons and Dead Water.
I love this land.
Ai Qing
If I were a bird,
I should also sing with a hoarse throat:
This land hit by the storm,
This river of sadness and anger will surge forever,
This endless wind,
And the tender dawn from the forest?
? And then I died,
Even feathers rot in the ground.
Why do I often cry?
Because I love this land deeply?
(written in 1938)
Ai Qing (19 10? 1996), a modern writer and poet, whose masterpiece is The Wild Goose River? My nanny, the north, and the sun.
"I use my damaged palm."
Dai wangshu
I used my injured palm.
Explore this vast land:
This corner has been reduced to ashes,
That corner is just blood and mud;
This lake should be my hometown,
In spring, the embankment is full of flowers.
Tender willow branches are broken with strange fragrance)
I touched the coolness of seaweed and water;
The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold.
The water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through the fingers;
Rice fields in the south of the Yangtze River, your new grass.
Is it so thin and soft? Now there is only Artemisia scoparia;
Litchi flowers in Lingnan are lonely and withered,
There, I was immersed in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats?
Invisible palms sweep the infinite mountains and rivers,
Fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with darkness,
Only the far corner is still intact,
Warm, clear, firm and vigorous spring.
On it, I stroked it with my broken palm,
Like a lover's soft hair, a baby's milk.
I put all my strength in my palm.
Put it on, send love and all hope,
Because there is only the sun, no spring,
Will dispel the haze and bring Su Sheng,
Because it's the only place where we don't live like animals,
Die like an ant? There, the eternal' China!
(written in 1942)
Dai Wangshu (1905- 1950) is a modernist symbolist poet and translator in China. His representative works include Rain Lane and My Memory.
homesickness
Yu Guangzhong
When I was a child,
Homesickness is a small stamp,
I'm here and my mother is there.
When I grow up,
Homesickness is a narrow ticket,
I'm here and the bride is there.
Later,
Homesickness is a short grave,
I'm outside and my mother is inside.
now
Homesickness is a shallow strait,
I am here and the mainland is there.
(written in 197 1)
Yu Guangzhong (1928? ), a famous poet, essayist, critic and translator in Taiwan Province Province, China. His representative works include White Jade and Bitter Melon, Memory as Railway Length and On the Watershed.
Motherland, my dear motherland.
Shu Ting
I am an old waterwheel worn by your river,
Tired songs that have been spun for hundreds of years;
I am a miner's lamp blackened on your forehead,
Do what you do in the tunnel of history;
I am a withered ear of rice; It is a roadbed that has been in disrepair for a long time;
This is a barge on the beach.
Pull the rope deep into your shoulder;
? Motherland!
I'm poor,
I am sad.
I am your painful hope for generations,
what's up Flying? sleeve
Flowers that never fall to the ground for thousands of years;
? Motherland!
I am your brand-new ideal.
Just broke free from the spider web of myth;
I am the germ of your ancient lotus under the snow;
I am your laughing vortex with tears hanging;
I am the newly painted white starting line;
This is crimson dawn.
It is sprayed;
? Motherland!
I'm one billionth of you,
Is the sum of your 9.6 million square meters;
With your scarred breasts,
raise
Lost me, considerate me, boiling me;
And then from my flesh and blood
get
Your richness, your glory, your freedom;
? Motherland,
My dear motherland!
(Written in 1979)
Shu Ting (1952? ), a contemporary poetess in China, is a representative figure of the misty school. Her masterpieces include To the Oak Tree, Motherland, My Dear Motherland and This is Everything.