Shopping for medicine-a story I want to tell here reminds me of the poet Wei Erlun. It seems that some writers should not send their husbands out to buy medicine when their wives are ill.
However, I have to start from another place.
At the end of World War I, we lived in a humble house in a humble building in Hus Street, Qi Skof District. This shabby house is located at the corner, and our suite has all the great and only advantages: the balcony and kitchen window face the open hillside of Witkoff Mountain. On the hillside, from the side of the railway, there are pieces of golden chain flowers, and dense and gorgeous yellow flowers are blooming in spring. Although it is not fragrant, it is like a wave, and the scenery is beautiful. Flug Schrameck once wrote a beautiful poem about the golden flower. After the golden chain flowers withered, the fragrance of acacia flowers on both sides of the railway poured into my window. The whole house, balcony and dark yard are filled with this sweet fragrance. A high wall separates the small yard from the railway subgrade. The high wall has been broken, and some wooden houses piled up with coal have been built next to it. The fragrance of spring is badly needed here. The yard is small and dark. During the war, the tenants kept a flock of hens here. They grabbed the stone floor with their little paws in vain and pecked at the plaster on the wall. Here, from time to time, mice come out in broad daylight to share the leftovers left by tenants from the balcony with hens. At night, when it was getting dark, the hens ran to the gate one by one, patiently waiting for someone to open the door for them, and then rushed to the stairs, making people laugh and jumping upstairs to find their floors and doors accurately. Even if it was about to lay eggs, the hen jumped step by step and then hurried into the house. Then the whole house echoed its cheerful mother song, singing that it had created a miracle: a small and precious baby in wartime.
If you ask where the hens are kept. Or in the kitchen, or mostly in that small, dark storage room. There is a window facing the smelly skylight, so it can't store food. However, there was no food during the war!
The window of a cabin in my house faces the noisy street and the Golden Angel Restaurant across the street. The gilded relief of the restaurant hangs on its forehead. Fran Keesecker Sauer lived in that house. A famous figure in Skof, a kind man, wrote a book describing his extraordinary life in his later years.
The war is over. Shortly after yaroslav Hasek returned to China, he moved into Sauer's house with his second wife brought back from Russia. Someone who has always liked mystery said she was a duchess. She doesn't look like it. The windows of our two houses are far apart. We can see the back room on the left of their house and Mrs Shula, as Qi Skof's neighbors call her. We always see her looking at the life of Czechs with interest in the bustling streets.
My classmate and friend Ivan Suk lives across the street. As long as I stand on the balcony and whistle, Suk will appear on his balcony. We often play billiards together. There is a small restaurant in the building where Suk lives. I don't know why, everyone calls it "Hard Rock Hotel". One of the tenants there is a master at billiards and treats people kindly. He taught us how to play billiards.
Yaroslav Hasek comes to this restaurant sometimes. He won't stay long. Too close to his wife. The wife always tries in vain to keep Hasek at home. Once, when someone asked Hasek why he didn't go to the Golden Angel Restaurant, he said disapprovingly that he would climb the stairs there. In fact, the Golden Angel Restaurant has only three steps.
One summer night, Hasek walked into a restaurant dressed. He is only wearing a shirt, slippers and trousers in his hand. He told everyone frankly that his wife Shula had locked all his shoes, belts and coats. He went to the pharmacy to buy medicine. His wife was ill and the doctor wrote a prescription. He brought a bottle, and when he agreed, he brought a bottle back. The shopkeeper played billiards with us first, then filled the bottle and drank a glass of beer standing. He plays very badly After drinking the third beer, he made up his mind to buy medicine. Shula is waiting. Leave the bottle here until he comes back to buy medicine. He didn't come back.
Two days later, someone knocked on our door decisively. Outside stood a democratic Shula, who angrily asked:
"Where is Ya Rusek?"
Later, she cried at my mother for a while, dried her tears and left.
No, Hasek didn't meet any Bo Han and didn't go abroad. He went home a week later. Brought back a bottle of beer, but there was no medicine. I don't want to take medicine anyway. His wife has recovered. Even too healthy! He added with a smile.
During this time, Hasek wore slippers and no coat and wandered around Prague in summer. Of course, he went to all the restaurants he could go to, and among his friends and partners-they didn't value his creation at all-he wrote an exercise book full of good soldiers and handsome men. He wrote a manuscript at the corner of the table. After writing a few pages, one of his partners sent it to Sinek, the publisher. The publishing house pays him according to the number of contributions. Of course, I won't give you another crown. Hasek killed a day or a night with it, and the next day, if he didn't want to sit in front of an empty cup, he had to start writing again.
Such creative conditions make people wonder: what would Hasek's works look like if he had a quiet environment and sat comfortably at his desk? However, this is a fatal "if" that can never be answered. Possibly, if Hasek hadn't written on a table full of beer, not in the noise of restaurants and restaurants, not among a group of friends who were greedy for drinks, in order to earn dozens of crowns to buy beer, this work might not have come out, and Hasek wouldn't have become a famous Hasek in Europe.
As we all know, Hasek died soon. Mrs. Shula also passed away. Fran Keesecker Sauer, Hasek's loyal friend and patient, also died. Only Shuaike, a chubby and extroverted circulatory psychopath, who absolutely doesn't know how to whitewash the reality-as Professor Von Dracek said in his diagnosis-lives in the world, happily not only goes to Puzm, but also almost travels all over the world and goes to places he never intended to go.
(translated by Yang)
Precautions:
Wei Erlun (1844-1896): French poet and representative of impressionist poetry. Wei Erlun was weak-willed, and once wandered to England and Belgium with the poet Bo Han. Later, Wei Erlun shot and killed Bo Han and was sentenced to two years' imprisonment.
Bo Han (1854— 189 1): French poet. The famous long poem Drunk Boat is his later work.
Flug Schrameck (1877— 1952): Czech poet.
Nickname for yaroslav.
Puzim: A small town near Bujjovica, Czech Republic.
Make an appreciative comment
Slippers are worn at home for comfort and nature, but Hasek stayed outside in slippers and pants for a whole week. He lingered in various pubs or restaurants, drinking and playing ball with friends, but what he used to pay the bill was the remuneration of the long satirical novel "Good Soldier and Handsome" written at the corner of the table and delivered to the publishing house during this period! This is the unique experience of the satirist yaroslav Hasek, who is well-known in Europe and the world, and it is also the legendary story of the birth of the elite soldier Shuaike. Like seifert, we can't help thinking: If Wei Erlun's wife hadn't been sick, Wei Erlun might not have met Bo Han in slippers, nor would he have gone to Belgium and Britain. So, if Hasek's wife wouldn't let him buy medicine, would Shuaike still be born in this world?
Seifert's Hasek lives in Prague, and the story still takes place in Qi Skof district where seifert lives. Compared with the shocking stories of Wei Erlun and Bo Han, Hasek's story is like an episode in a warm and sweet ordinary family life. This is the charm of Czech and Prague. Seifert described the poverty of people's life after World War I-hens were kept in food storerooms, and every egg was so precious. But as long as it happens in Prague, it is so romantic, not to mention the story in that cool summer day. I can't see the gloom caused by the hardships after World War I. It seems that this relaxed and warm comfort is the unique atmosphere of Prague, and the beer hall is still crowded. Hasek's humor is the happiness of a good soldier Shuaike. He is a man of true temperament. Everyone knows that Hasek is bound by his wife, but he walks into the bar with pants and slippers in his hand and talks and laughs with people casually. In the severe post-war life, what people see is his optimistic spirit, and the material shortage has been solved under his humorous and relaxed attitude towards life. Therefore, Hasek is a real person, and seifert showed us a living, relaxed and humorous person with flesh and blood, not a strong warrior. His greatness lies in his arbitrariness and casual attitude towards life, which is far from the face of the great Czech nationalist fighter that people imagine, but only such a person can express his nationalist feelings in the most humorous way. Shuaike is the incarnation of Hasek. His life was a life of struggle and made great contributions to Czech national independence. Although the reality is not so easy, and the publication of the good soldier Shuaike is not so simple, Hasek's contempt, satire and teasing of Austria-Hungary, as well as his strong and vivid outline of the face of the invaders and the wishes of ordinary people, have made Shuaike's image deeply rooted in the hearts of the people, crossed the boundaries of the Czech nation and entered the world literary world.
Hasek, like Wei Erlun, escaped in slippers and finished the greatest work of his life. This behavior itself is of course accidental, but it shows that artistic creation needs free space. Compared with slippers, shoes are worn on formal occasions, but the creation does not need the restriction of rules and regulations, and strict rules will inevitably destroy the artist's life and creativity. Because the slipper is a special factor to inspire, no matter how noisy this space is, the privacy of the space is guaranteed in the writer's mind. It's hard to imagine an artist sitting at his desk in a suit and tie. Art needs sincerity and true temperament. Only creation that is not bound by any form can have real artistic vitality. Therefore, Hasek's creation was inspired by the dirty air and noisy noise in pubs, while Wei Erlun broke through the cage of leather shoes and wandered in Belgium and Britain with Bo Han, singing a song of soul in the process of desertion.
The Sri Lankan has passed away, but his literary creation is eternal. His handsome guy "lives in the world and walks happily, not only towards Puzim, but also almost all over the world, where he never planned to go".
(stone) according to