After 1937, he moved to Wuhan, Shanxi, Guilin, Chongqing and other places to participate in anti-Japanese and national salvation activities. 194 1 went to Yan' an to attend the Yan' an forum on literature and art and edited Poetry Magazine. After 1949, he served as deputy editor-in-chief of People's Literature. 1957 was wrongly classified as a rightist and went to work in Heilongjiang and Xinjiang. He was criticized many times during the Cultural Revolution. 1976, 10 months later, he regained the right to write, served as the vice chairman of the Chinese Writers Association and the China Center of the International PEN, and was awarded the highest literary medal by France.
The poet integrated his personal joys and sorrows into the suffering and destiny of the country and people, showing his eager yearning and pursuit for the light, strong sense of the times and realism, deep feelings and unique style. He is an important poet who promoted a generation of poetic style after Guo Moruo and Wen Yiduo.
He is the author of poems such as Dayan River, North China, Facing the Sun, Song of Return, etc. Prose collections include On Poetry and On Poetry by Ai Qing.
North (Aiqing)
Poets on Horqin Grassland
Say to me:
"North sorrow."
Not bad,
The north is sad.
Blow from the outside of the plug.
Desert wind,
It's already gone
The Green of Life in the North
And the glory of time,
-Dark grayish yellow,
Covered with a layer of sand fog that can't be opened;
That day, the roar of Pentium,
Brought fear,
like mad
Sweep the land
Desert Yuan Ye
Frozen in the cold wind of October;
This village,
Ancient city,
On the hillside,
Riverbank,
Collapsed walls and deserted graves,
Covered with earthy melancholy ...
Lonely pedestrians,
Upper body leaning forward
Cover your cheeks with your hands,
In the wind and sand
Difficulty breathing,
one by one
Struggle forward ...
A few donkeys
-With sad eyes.
A beast with tired ears,
Carrying land
The weight of pain,
Their tired footsteps,
go slow
the north
A long and lonely road ...
Those rivers have dried up long ago.
Cars were painted on the bottom of the river,
The land and people in the north
yearn for
The fountain that nourishes life!
Withered tree
Low-rise residence,
filmy
Gloomily
Scattered in
Under the gloomy sky;
In the sky,
Can't see the sun,
Only geese form a large group.
Wild geese in chaos,
Flapping its black wings,
Talk about their anxiety and pain,
Escape from this desolate area,
Escape to
The south, where the green covers the sky, has disappeared. ...
The north is sad;
Yellow River in Wan Li
Surging waves,
Go to the vast north
Pour out disasters and misfortunes;
And the wind and frost of the age,
depict
The vast north
Poverty and hunger.
but I ...
-This passenger from the south,
But love this sad northland.
blowing sand
The cold wind is biting,
Never let me curse;
I love this sad land,
The endless desert,
Also aroused my reverence:
-I see
Our ancestors
Leading the sheep,
Attack the flute,
Immersed in this desert dusk ...
We are moving forward.
Ancient
In the soft loess layer,
Buried with the bones of our ancestors,
They cultivated this land,
Thousands of years.
They're here.
Fighting against the nature that has hit them,
They defended the land.
Never been humiliated.
They are dead.
Leave us the land—
I love this sad land,
Its vast and barren land,
Bring us simple words
In a broad posture,
I believe: this speech and gesture
Live strong on the earth,
Never perish;
I love this sad land.
Ancient land,
This land has nurtured
This is what I like.
The hardest thing in the world
The oldest race
Wild Goose River-My Nanny
Dayanhe is my nanny.
Her name is the name of the village where she was born
She is a child bride,
Dayanhe is my nanny.
I am the son of the landlord;
I also grew up eating milk from Dayan River.
Son of Dayan River.
Dayanhe raised her family and me,
I grew up on your milk,
Dayanhe, my Baum.
Dayanhe, the snow I saw today reminds me of you:
Your grave is covered with snow,
Your closed, dead Waffy living under the eaves,
The square garden you pawned,
The mossy stone chair in front of your door,
Dayanhe, the snow I saw today reminds me of you.
You hold me in your arms with thick palms and touch me;
After you set up the stove,
After you took charcoal powder off your skirt,
When you taste the cooked rice,
When you put the black sauce bowl on the black table,
When you have mended your child's clothes cut by thorns on the hillside,
After you bandaged your son's hand cut with a wooden knife,
After you strangled the lice on your husband's lining one by one,
When you pick up the first egg today,
You hold me in your arms with your big palm and touch me.
I am the landlord's son,
After I ate all your milk in Dayan River,
I was taken home by my parents who gave birth to me.
Ah, Dayanhe, why are you crying?
I'm a new guest at my parents' house!
I touched the furniture carved with red paint,
I touched the gold pattern on my parents' bed,
I looked blankly at the plaque on the eaves that I didn't know, "Family Fun".
I touched the silk and shell buttons of my new dress.
I looked at my mother's unfamiliar sister,
I sat on the oiled kang stool, holding the brazier.
I have eaten rice that has been ground three times.
However, I am so embarrassed! Because I
I became a new guest in my parents' house.
Dayanhe, for the sake of life,
After she drank all the milk,
She began to work with her arms hugging me;
She washed our clothes with a smile.
With a smile on her face, she went to the frozen pond near the village with a vegetable basket.
She smiled and cut Rob with ice.
With a smile on her face, she took out the spent grains eaten by pigs with her hands.
She fanned the fire in the saucepan with a smile on her face.
She smiled and went to the square with a basket on her back.
Sun those soybeans and wheat,
Dayanhe, for the sake of life,
After she drank all the milk,
She just held my arm and worked hard.
Wild goose river, deeply in love with her breasts;
During the Chinese New Year, I was busy cutting him the candy of that winter rice.
For him, she often walks quietly to her home on the edge of the village.
For him, walk up to her and call "Mom".
Dayan River, the red and green Guan Yunchang he painted.
Stick it on the wall next to the stove,
Dayanhe will boast about her breasts to her neighbors;
Dayanhe had a dream that he couldn't tell people:
In the dream, she ate her child's wedding wine,
Sitting in the bright and colorful hall,
Her beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately calls her "old woman"
… … … …
Dayanhe, love her breasts!
Dayanhe died before her dream woke up.
When she died, her breasts were not with her,
When she died, her mother-in-law who usually scolded her also shed tears for her.
Five sons, each crying sadly,
When she died, she whispered the name of her child.
Dayanhe, dead,
When she died, her breasts were not with her.
Dayanhe, tears streaming down her face!
After more than 40 years of bullying,
The misery of countless slaves,
With a four-dollar coffin and a few bundles of rice grass,
There are square cemeteries several feet long,
With a handful of paper and money,
Dayanhe, she left with tears in her eyes.
This is what Dayanhe doesn't know:
Her drunken husband died,
The eldest son became a bandit,
The second one died in the smoke of gunfire,
Third, fourth and fifth times
And I am writing a spell for this immoral world.
When I returned to my native land after a long wandering,
In Shan Ye,
Brothers and sisters meet, more intimate than six or seven years ago!
This, this is for you, the sleepy Dayan River.
You don't know anything!
Dayanhe, your baby is in prison today.
Write a beautiful poem for you,
Give you the purple soul under the loess,
Reach out to you and hug my hand,
Let you kiss my lips,
Presenting you with a muddy and soft face,
Dedicated to the nursing room where you raised me,
To your sons, my brothers,
Presented on the earth in the form of cutting,
My dam-like Baum and their son,
Dedicated to Dayan River, which loves me as my own son.
Dayanhe, I grew up eating your milk.
Your son
I respect you.
love you