This is a small incision. This is a narrow view.
The city will be destroyed. It does not mean that the face of a city is still intact and the city has not been destroyed. It doesn't mean that after the city was razed to the ground by war, people disappeared in flames and the city declared the end of life.
Cities, like countries, are carriers of civilization. The Greek polis collapsed, the countries of the Western Roman Empire perished, and the Central Plains regime was conquered by ethnic minorities, but these cultures did not die out. Wild geese leave marks, and these cultures leave scars of destruction. They are buried in an unknown heart, or cast in the blood flowing from generation to generation of a nation.
Even if a city has never changed its face, when it is trampled by invaders, when its people are slaves, no matter how bright and clean it is, a part of the city must have been destroyed-when its people write poems of weeping blood, when this hatred is passed on to future generations, the humiliation between the lines still floats in front of our eyes.
With the collapse of Tokyo in the Northern Song Dynasty, people in the south miss the elegance of their old capital. Tokyo fell, but lived in that prosperous dream forever; Beiping was occupied by the Japanese invaders, and the contradiction between resistance and obedience was intertwined, resulting in bitter results. Beiping has been recovered, but the fall has become a scar on the soul.
All this is unfortunate. Unfortunately, however, this is not the case. The most unfortunate thing in the world is to bury the truth and forget it as a last resort.
In many cities in Southeast Asia, slums look no different from garbage dumps. People live in hollow cement pipes; Coffins are placed in the grid on the wall, and some coffins can live without being put in. After living like this for decades, generations of children were born here and died here.
But for them, this isolated environment has created an optimistic nature. Because we know nothing about happiness, we have no concept of suffering.
What about our country? Our country is going to the world. This means that each of us lives in an era of "being deprived of the right to die without knowing". We are far from suffering and cannot turn a blind eye to all kinds of happiness; But by contrast, we turn a blind eye to those pains. Since there is no concept of pain, there is no concept of happiness.
Books such as Pursuing Happiness and What is Happiness are very popular in the market, because people feel unhappy: this is a matter of course. In fact, most people who ridicule and despise mental patients have a really hard life. Of course, we must oppose this lack of empathy, but where does empathy come from?
We argued with each other, which led to such a dispute. Sometimes we feel that people around us lack understanding of ourselves, and it is also difficult for us to understand others. In this isolated loneliness, individuals surpass all groups in the world: everyone is willing to be selfish, because few people are willing to pay for people who don't know the details for no reason, and the person who knows us best is himself.
What power throws a ribbon at us and leads us to an unknown heart? What can transcend the ruthless whipping of time and death and write rebirth, destruction and reconstruction one by one in immortal history?
Poetry. Poetry has this power.
Poetry makes us fall in love with a soul that lived thousands of years ago. Without Li Bai's poems, there will be a gap in the soul of each of us, because this person once wrote his life and soul on paper with that kind of sincere confession for us to understand.
And if people really know a person, just like knowing their loved ones and themselves, it is difficult to really ignore him.
It is frustrating that even today, when people can understand the beauty and emotion of individual freedom, there are still some people who speculate on others at will with that disgusting utilitarian thought and personal prejudice.
I don't know why, maybe it's because literati and historical figures are not completely equal after all. Too secular language and too personalized likes and dislikes will really make people feel physically uncomfortable and directly mislead a person's evaluation of the characters.
It can be seen that just reading other people's comments and biographies can't let us know the truth. The truth of a writer can only be vividly reflected in literature. Hearsay is as cruel and irresponsible as telling a musician to stop playing.
We live in a post-truth era, and we don't want to be decided by others what we think and what we should think, but this persistence needs more thinking and experience, otherwise we will follow in its footsteps and become slaves and ghosts without souls. If you want to understand a poet and his times, you must read ancient poems.
Poetry lets us learn to express our inner feelings. "No longer lonely", how many people have been struggling to pursue this goal, and how many people have gone astray, seeking a sad sense of existence by pandering and pleasing: this is the case in ancient traitors, this is the case in modern conquered people, and some people in modern times are not.
Through those poems, we saw lonely poets who lived in seclusion, poets who were aloof and unhappy, and poets who "would rather die in exile" than drift with the world: although lonely, they never gave up their persistence.
Their handwriting is their heart, their heart, even if no one understood them at that time, now we see a thousand waves aroused by that stone in the long river of history: they are not alone. To say the least, at least they know themselves, and they are still full of energy despite the pain: the muddled pain is a sword and poison that can kill a person without dignity.
We should know ourselves and pay attention to our hearts; Even if others don't understand you, you should pay attention to yourself. Don't feel inferior, get rid of the shadow and understand your own desires, so that we can move on. People who cherish their dignity will not be insulted by others.
Finally, poetry lets us learn to remember. Don't forget the love that the world can't tolerate, and don't forget the tears in the corner of your eyes; Don't forget the lesson of blood; Don't forget the victims at the bottom, give them some love.
We are all ordinary people, and the city is still destroyed. Why do people feel inferior? When we finally die, we all want to be remembered by others. Only by learning to remember those vague faces in the past will people not forget us with the past times. The so-called "care for people" has absolutely nothing to do with some outstanding individuals, but care and praise for the whole mankind.
Everyone will die, and one day in the future, we will become people who exist in history like poets. Please read those words with your heart, just as future generations read us; Please write your own chapter, as the ancients did.
Don't be afraid of falling, some things will last forever. Don't let everything become a record on a page, we have to leave more than that. Our laughter will fool the fleeting time.