I know that eternal death arrival is not sad.
There is my wish in the pine forest.
There is a sea below, which looks like a pool from a distance.
What is with me is the afternoon sunshine.
Time is running out, and the world is long.
I should rest in the middle.
Passers-by say the branches are low.
Passers-by said the branches were growing.
Tomb Bed is the most touching work of Gu Cheng that I have ever seen. I always feel that this poem reflects Gu Cheng's life and inner dilemma. This is a poem worth pondering, whether from an artistic or social point of view. There are only eight sentences in the whole poem, which is unforgettable-the whole poem is serene and calm, like an old man who sees through the world whispering, but more like a ruthless prophecy, revealing the poet's inner boredom and the results caused by boredom. Over the years, I have introduced this work to a large number of friends, and I think it is the best poem from Gu Cheng since the 1990s. June, 5438+October, 2003 10, in an article about the impression of Zhang Zao's poems, I mentioned the tomb bed again: "Reading Zhang Zao's poems, I can't help but think of Gu Cheng, a peerless genius, who is naturally sensitive to words. His poems are like brushing silk with your fingers, which can always make you feel unspeakable comfort, even if his original intention is not to be' comfortable'.
I am a willful child.
I am a wayward child.
I want to paint windows all over the world.
Let all eyes accustomed to darkness get used to light.
perhaps
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Painting mountains—
Full of fuzzy fluff
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring is exciting.
Be a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival-
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to erase all my misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the last one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation
Draw the sea—
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
Enjoy 1:
This poem embodies Gu Cheng's aesthetic ideal-to pursue a pure, harmonious, non-contradictory and pleasant world. The childhood experience shattered Gu Cheng's ideal dream, but he still pursued his fantasy persistently, hoping to realize it again in his other world. In this poem, the poet observes and feels the world with a child's eyes and heart, hoping to draw a colorful blueprint of life in the fantasy world with colored crayons, and draw "clumsy freedom", "eyes that will never cry" and "love without pain". However, can this whimsical blueprint be realized in the real world? The poet left fantasy and returned to reality. "I didn't get the crayon" means that my ideal blueprint has not been recognized by the society, so I can only "tear up that blank sheet of paper in Zhang Xinai" in despair. "White paper" refers to "self", life or unwritten poems. But did the poet stop pursuing fantasy? No. The last verse of the poem once again points out that "I" is "a child spoiled by my imaginary mother". I am willful and will continue to pursue fantasy persistently.
Gu Cheng's childhood had various opportunities to blend with nature, and he found a free realm in nature, where he could temporarily forget all kinds of sadness and troubles in reality. This realm of freedom has become his persistent pursuit of fantasy world. Because the poet has this special relationship with nature, nature is assimilated into the poet's psychological structure, and his poems are full of idealism.
Appreciation 2:
Ideal and Reality: Eternal Contradiction
-after reading "I am a wayward child"
1 July, 9971day, I filled in the following words in the blank of this page:
"A wayward child has left us such a beautiful picture. If anyone can't be moved by it, then he really shouldn't have the right to read poetry.
"A wayward child, spoiled by fantasy, but he didn't fantasize too much for himself. His fantasy is the whole world and all mankind, not the personal center. Because' he has no home/a heart in the distance/he only has many/berry-like dreams/and big eyes'. Take the world as home, freedom as life, ideals as reality and dreams as poetry. This wayward child is as beautiful and lovely as so many beautiful things he painted.
"However, reality is always cruel, it creates fantasy, but it has to tear it. It gave the child so many beautiful dreams, but it didn't give him a' colorful moment' to realize his dreams. How can a child's fragile mind resist such teasing? He is too young to take other revenge, he wants to tear himself apart, and he can only take the escape of his dream as a weak resistance to reality.
"But reality is still reality, and children are still willful. Why does this pair of eternal contradictions become the sharp words written by street talk and theorists? I remember an old saying:' No country knows, only I know, so I am in danger.' This may be a compliment I can give this wayward child, though it is insignificant. "
Now I just want to add: only by really understanding a person can we understand his poems and his behavior.