Reading Gu Cheng——"In Front of the Gate"

At five o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was still hanging in the blue sky, and the air conditioner was blowing in the house, bored. I accidentally saw a yellowed book in the corner of the desk. Out of curiosity, I rescued it from the dark and dusty corner. When I saw the title of the book, I couldn't help but be startled. It turned out to be "The Collected Poems of Gu Cheng" that I bought a few years ago. When I flipped through the first page, my friend mentioned it. The sentence is already a little blurry.

Make a pot of tea, open the poetry collection, and quietly enter the world of Gu Cheng's poetry.

How I wish there was a doorway

In the morning, the sun shines on the grass

We stood

Holding on to our door leaf

The door is low, but the sun is bright

The grass is bearing its seeds

The wind is shaking its leaves

We Standing, not talking

It’s very beautiful

There is a door, no need to open it

It’s ours, it’s very beautiful

Morning , still wandering in the dark night

Let’s give him the six-stringed harp

We won’t leave

We need land

We need to never be destroyed The land of

We have to ride it

through life

The land is rough and sometimes narrow

However, it has a history

There is a share of the sky, a share of the moon

A share of dew and morning

We love the land

We stand

Digging the soil with wooden shoes

The door is also hot in the sun

We lean on each other gently, it is very beautiful

The grass behind the wall

It will never grow up again

It only touches the sunlight with its fingertips

This poem is called "In Front of the Door" and was written in August 1982 , the poet Gu Cheng will not introduce too much here. I first met Gu Cheng because I accidentally saw the sentence in his "A Generation" - The night gave me black eyes, but I used them to find light. At that time, I was wondering what kind of person he was and how he could write such beautiful poems. I was curious to understand this poet, so I got out of control.

In the poem "In Front of the Door", there is no accumulation of gorgeous words, nor does it follow the rhythm of the poem. When you read it carefully, you will feel an ethereal purity coming to you, enjoying the tranquility and tranquility of life. good. The most beautiful poetry comes from life, and life is our best teacher. It teaches us to read poetry, and it teaches us to understand what we mean. All beauty comes from the most ordinary life. Life is the yearning for facing the sea and the flowers blooming in spring; life is also the freedom and satisfaction of "the grass is bearing its seeds, the wind is shaking its leaves, we stand and don't talk, it is very beautiful".