Worrying about the country is the soul backbone in Du Fu's poems. In all his poems, most of them reveal sighs and sorrows about the broken mountains and rivers of the motherland. In the face of the declining Tang Dynasty and the fragmented land of the Tang Dynasty, he tearfully wrote, "Although the country is fragmented, the mountains and rivers last forever, and the vegetation turns green in spring." Yesterday, the motherland was thriving, but today it is in ruins. Facing the same mountains and rivers, just imagine, everyone is Fu, who shed "tears" and "hate parting"? Du Fu is such a patriotic poet. He is worried about the country's destruction and happy about the country's prosperity. On both sides of the Yellow River recovered by the imperial army, he was "unable to stop crying at first" and "frantically packed books and poems". He is happy because he has recovered "Henan" and "Hebei". His happiness belongs not only to himself, but also to his motherland. This kind of pure happiness is only for those who are truly patriotic. So is life. You don't need to travel all over the mountains and rivers, you don't need splendor. The root of Du Fu's happiness is only the prosperity of the motherland.
Du Fu lived in the darkest period. Especially the Anshi Rebellion, people's lives were miserable. Officials everywhere ruthlessly oppress and exploit people. At this hot moment, Du Fu resolutely chose to stand up and expose the incident with a clever pen, instilling sympathy and understanding into every poem. "Three Officials" and "Three Farewells" are the expressions of his thoughts. In Shi Qu Guan, "Why is the official angry and why does the woman cry?" The ruthlessness of the officials made Du Fu angry but helpless, helpless, and could only "be alone with the old man" sadly. He also changed the status quo through his official career, but his helplessness and dirty officialdom led to his repeated relegation. In the end, he chose to go back to the people and use his pen as a gun to express his heartfelt sympathy for the people. He is close to the people and is willing to share joys and sorrows with the people. It seems that he is not a poet, let alone a "poet saint" who could have been promoted to a higher position and made a fortune.
Today, I read Du Fu's gloomy and frustrated poems again, and my admiration for him arises spontaneously. I admire his great ambition of "obeying the monarch first, then making the vulgar pure", and I admire his courage to expose and criticize darkness, decay, fearlessness and justice.
Although poetry may not spread around the world after thousands of years, Du Fu's spirit is immortal. Today, everyone is worried about the motherland in peacetime, but also afraid that the motherland will not prosper?