Autumn is the season of harvest, and harvest makes people happy; After the harvest, it will wither, which makes people feel melancholy and sad.
Qiu Si is full of melancholy and sadness in classical poetry.
Song Yu, a frustrated scholar, said, "Alas, autumn is gas! The bleak vegetation is crumbling and declining! "
Liu Che, Emperor Gaozu of Han Dynasty, said: "The autumn wind rises in Bai Yunfei, the plants and trees turn yellow, and the geese return to the south ... drums and drums sing, and there are many joys and sorrows."
Cao Pi, who fought to the death with his brother, said: "The autumn wind is bleak, it is freezing in the cold, and the vegetation shakes the frost. Yan Zhiqun resigned to Nanxiang, and he was also a guest of thinking of you. "
Li Jing, leader of the Southern Tang Dynasty, said: "Lotus fragrance sells green leaves, while the west wind worries about green waves."
Du Fu, who has been wandering for half his life, said: "Leaves fall like the waves of a waterfall, and I watch the long river always roll forward."
Liu Yong, a bohemian, said, "The frost and wind are getting colder and the river is cold."
The scenery is always autumn, plants are yellow, leaves fly and geese fly south; Writing about love is always sad, heartbreaking and resentful.
Why is this happening? The frustrated literati saw the bleak autumn scenery and thought they were in a hurry. When the proud emperor saw the bleak autumn scenery, he felt that life was too short to enjoy the prosperity of the world.
Modern people seem to have lost sight of the desolation in the eyes of the ancients, and are no longer as melancholy and sad as before.
Perhaps it is because I have lost my freshness after reading such an expression;
Perhaps it is because I have been living in the jungle of reinforced concrete for a long time and feel numb;
Perhaps it is because there are fewer scenes of trees falling and rustling, and I can't get in touch with the scenery, so I can't have feelings;
Maybe it's because there are too many things to worry about, and I can't take care of hurting spring and mourning autumn.
Reading Taiwan Province poet Yaxian's Qiu Ge-Warm-up today, I feel very fresh and have a familiar strangeness.
Yaxian, 1932, born in Nanyang County (now Nanyang City), Henan Province, was originally named Wang Qinglin. It's the same as "dumb" Yaxian, dumb string? Interesting pen name.
This poem is very short:
The fallen leaves finished their last trembling.
The flowers disappeared into the blue eyes of the lake.
The anvil in July is still far away.
warm
The geese are not in the autumn sky.
Write down their beautiful sonnets.
warm
Horseshoe leaves fall out.
On the hill road in the south.
The singer left a broken rhyme.
In the dim temples in the north
Autumn, autumn left nothing.
Leaving only a warmth.
Leaving only a warmth.
Everything was left behind.
I am familiar with the poet's feelings about bleak autumn colors: fallen leaves, withered flowers, distant sounds of wild geese, broken fallen flowers and broken music, all of which are familiar poetic images of China people nourished by classical poetry.
What is strange is the language, not the expression. Writing fallen leaves, he said, "I finished the last trembling"; When he wrote that the flowers were dying, he said, "Disappear in the blue eyes of the lake" and "blue eyes", what a beautiful word; When writing "Wild Goose Going to Hengyang", he said that "they are not writing their beautiful sonnets in the autumn sky of Liao country", and described the geese flying in the autumn sky as writing poems and ethereal imagination; Writing broken fallen flowers, he emphasized "in the small mountain road in the south"; When writing rhyme, he emphasized "in Beihun Temple". There are no such heavy words as "bleak", "cold" and "sad", but some such gentle words as "small" and "faint".
Strangely enough, after he described autumn scenery in the first two paragraphs, the word "warm" appeared again. What is "warmth"? The poet didn't say. In the last paragraph, the poet defined "warmth" with "one". Is it a beautiful, gentle and lovely girl named "Warm"? Or is it a "warm" feeling in the poet's heart? Whether it is concrete "warmth" or abstract "warmth", it is full of poetry and poetry, without the heavy sigh in classical poetry.
The last paragraph is very strange, "Autumn, there is nothing left in autumn/only a warmth/only a warmth/everything is gone". Yes, in autumn, the red fades and the green fades, leaving behind vastness and desolation. Only vastness and desolation? The outside world is vast and desolate, and our inner world should be "warm". With "warmth", we can overcome the vastness and desolation and usher in a vibrant spring.
British poet Shelley said, "If winter comes, can spring be far behind?" Tell the same truth, have the same mentality, but Yaxian is more subtle.
Modern poetry and classical poetry are inextricably linked. Excellent modern poetry always has a classical charm. When they no longer dance with the shackles of "rhythm" and "duality", they have a kind of elasticity.