Xichuan
cherish the memory of
The body is the beginning of the soil.
The body is not anger or disease.
It contains fatigue, sadness and genius.
-Haizi (Diwang) (1987)
The death of the poet Haizi will become one of the myths of our time. As time goes by, we will see more and more clearly what a precious friend we lost at dusk on March 26th, 989. Losing a true friend means losing a great inspiration, a dream, a part of our life and an echo. For us, Haizi is a genius, but for himself, he will always be a lonely "king", a "lover with short material life" and a "rural intellectual". Haizi only lived for 25 years, and his literary creation only lasted for about 7 years. In the last two years of his life, he was like a young star, racing against time and then suddenly exploding.
The night after Haizi committed suicide, I got this incredible news. How can it be so violent? He should still be alive! Because just two weeks ago, Haizi, Luo Yihe and Mu talked about Goethe in my home. We should not let Faust translate "there is a way in the beginning of Thailand" into "there is something in the beginning of Thailand", but should translate it into "there is life in the beginning of Thailand". We also talked about the desolation of the earth after harvest and Alexander's heroic double row. Haizi committed suicide by lying on a track between Shanhaiguan and Longjiaying. When he committed suicide, he took four books with him: the Old Testament, the New Testament, Thoreau's Walden Lake, Haidar's Lonely Raft Crossing the Ocean and Conrad's Selected Novels. "My death has nothing to do with anyone," he wrote in his suicide note. Yihe told me that they came to my house two weeks ago because of Haizi's proposal.
There have been all kinds of rumors about Haizi's death, but most of them will be proved absurd. Haizi left nearly 2 million words of literary works, including only three diaries in his life. As early as1986165438+1October 18, he wrote in his diary: "I almost committed suicide ... but it was another me-another corpse ... I ended his life in many ways, but I survived. This young poet, who once wrote Goethe's poems with Holdrin's enthusiasm, was so holy and stupid that he was brilliant! As Van Gogh said, "Everything I create for nature is chestnuts, which are taken out of the fire. Ah, those who don't trust the sun are those who turn their backs on God. "
After Haizi died, Yihe called him "Hong Haier"-Yihe was right, because in Haizi's autobiographical poems, we can really find such Haizi: simple, sensitive and creative; At the same time, he is impatient, fragile and obsessed with the desolate soil. What he cares about and believes in is what is dying and will radiate Hui Jin with eternal height. This concern and belief contributed to Haizi's lifelong career, although he didn't finish it in the end. He chose us to succeed him.
When I entered his residence in Changping for the last time to sort out his belongings, I heard my own heartbeat. The master I know is gone, but the master's character is preserved everywhere in those two houses. There is a printed painting of Van Gogh's oil painting "The Courtyard of Al Sanatorium" in the lobby. In the room on the left, there is a floor under the window. On the table near the south wall, there are two stone reliefs of Lamaism that he brought back from Tibet and an album of 16 and1Spanish painter greco at the turn of the 7th century. In the room on the right, there are three large bookshelves lined up along the western wall-the other bookshelf is against the eastern wall-and the bookshelves are full of books. There are two tables in the room. On the table by the door stood seven volumes of Indian epic Ramayana, which was collected by the master before his death. Obviously, these two rooms were cleaned before the owner left: as clean as graves.
This is the residence of Haizi1autumn 19831spring 1989, in Changping, a small town more than 60 miles away from Beijing (Haizi first lived in the West Ring Road and later moved to the new campus of Dongtou University of Political Science and Law). Changping Creek is adjacent to Taihang Mountain in the west and Du Jun in Yanshan Mountain in the north. These mountains don't know that a poet faces them every day and writes a series of works, the land, the great Caesar, the sun, the killing, and the Messiah in heaven. Here, Haizi dreamed of wheat fields, grasslands, girls, heaven and all distant things. Haizi lives in distant things, especially now.
You can laugh at the wealth of an emperor, but you can't laugh at the poverty of a poet. Unlike Ximenes, a Spanish poet who found a place in the world in dream of paradise, Haizi did not find his own life position happily. This may be due to his prejudice. You can't find a TV, a tape recorder or even a radio in his room. Haizi writes in poverty, monotony and loneliness. He can neither dance nor swim nor ride a bike. In the years since he left Peking University, he has only seen a movie once-that was in the summer of 1986. I went to Changping to see him, and I dragged him to see the Soviet film Idiot adapted from Dostoevsky's novel. Apart from going to Tibet twice to give classes to students, Haizi's daily life is basically like this: writing every night until 7 am the next day, sleeping all morning and reading all afternoon. However, Haizi is not an introvert by nature. He will be very happy to talk about how he ate water bamboo naked in the field on rainy days when he was a child. He will invent some strange slogans, such as "take good advice", and he will tell you that Lao Tzu is blind and Lei Feng is a great man.
This man who longs for flying is doomed to die on the earth, but who can be sure that Haizi's death is not another kind of flying, so as to get rid of the long night and the deep-rooted pain of the soul and echo the loud call of the Messiah at dawn? Haizi once called himself a romantic poet, and his mind was full of fantasies. However, it is different from19th century European romanticism. We can compare the two volumes of the Bible: Haizi's creative path is from the New Testament to the Old Testament. The new testament is thought, the old testament is action, the new testament is head, the old testament is headless hero, the new testament is love, water and motherhood, and the old testament is violence, fire and fatherhood. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" and "If a person hits your right cheek, you should give him your left cheek" are different, so the earth girl in Haizi's early poems later became the host country and Homer who sang in heaven. I don't know what caused this change when he wrote his long poem Land in 1987, but his change suddenly brought us a whole new world. Haizi expects to begin with lyricism, go through narration and reach epic. He is eager to build a huge poetry empire: from the Nile in the east, to the Pacific Ocean in the west, to the Mongolian Plateau in the north and to the Indian subcontinent in the south.
At least for me personally, it will take a long time to talk deeply about Haizi and his poems, as well as his significance and influence on the poetry and society of our time as a symbol. Haizi must have seen and heard many things that I have never seen or heard. It is these things that I have never seen or heard that make him one of the pioneers of our time. In a poem about Rambo, Haizi called the French psychic a "poet martyr". Now, lonely, miserable, revolutionary and bleeding, he has joined the ranks of the poet's martyrs. The prophecy in his life became his call to himself. We will benefit from his clarity and determination in life and art and face the dawn of the new century.
Haizi and I met in the spring of 1983. I still remember it was in an office of the Youth League Committee of Peking University, which also served as a dormitory. Haizi came, small, round face, big eyes, completely a child (bearded later). At that time, he was only 19 years old and was about to graduate. I can't remember the content of that conversation, but I still remember that he mentioned Hegel, which gave me a blind admiration. Haizi probably began to write poetry in the third year of college.
Speaking of Haizi's talent, we can't help but admire it. Haizi 15 years old, from Anqing, Anhui Province, was admitted to the Law Department of Peking University. After graduation, she was assigned to work in China University of Political Science and Law. At first, she was published in the school magazine, and later she was transferred to the philosophy teaching and research section. She teaches students cybernetics, system theory and aesthetics. Haizi's aesthetics class is very popular. When talking about the question of "imagination", he exemplified the randomness of imagination: "You can imagine that seagulls are God's swimming trunks!" Students know that he is a poet and ask him to recite poems 10 minutes before class. Oh, blessed are those who listened to his recitation!
Haizi loved four girls in his life, but every time the result was a disaster, especially the girl who first fell in love, which was related to his life. However, the children wrote many touching poems for them. "Four sisters are standing on the desolate mountain/all the wind blows only to them/all the days are broken for them." (Four Sisters) This is similar to the opening remarks of three witches in Shakespeare's Macbeth: "When will the sisters meet again?" Haizi once loved them very sadly. "These four confused sisters/have one more than the goddess of fate." Oh, these four women are blessed!
Haizi has lived in the countryside for 15 years, so he thinks he can at least write about the countryside for 15 years. But he left early before he finished writing 15. Everyone who approaches him and reads his poems can smell the rotation of the four seasons, the direction of the wind and the growth of wheat from him. The light and darkness, warmth and harshness of the earth have become the essence of his life, his outstanding, simple, fluent and sonorous poetic language, as if the silent earth had seized him and turned him into the voice of the earth. Oh, blessed are the vast villages in China!
Haizi's last poem with fatalism is an important part of all his achievements. He uniquely experienced that "the night rises from the earth/hides the bright sky/the desolate earth/the night rises from your heart after harvest." Now, when I came into contact with these poems, I was deeply shocked by these poems that reached the element and knew that this was the real poem. Now, he doesn't have to say that his poems are "unchanged, because his poems will flow in our blood." Oh, bless China's brand-new poems!
1990 February
-Author: Hulg joined Cai Bo on Thursday, April 28th, 2005 at 0 1:44.