Beauty in troubled times
Li Qingzhao is remembered for her famous "slow voice". It is a bleak beauty, especially the phrase "searching, lonely, sad and miserable", which has become her personal exclusive brand and is regarded as the embodiment of sadness. The interpretation of her is "what a sad word".
In fact, before Li Qingzhao wrote this word, she had too much happiness. When Li Qingzhao falls in love with all the happiness that a boudoir girl can get, her beautiful life is to go up a storey still higher. Zhao Mingcheng, her husband, is a dashing teenager, and they are literary confidants and congenial. In addition to the elegance of ordinary literati's poetry, piano, chess and calligraphy, they also have a more congenial professional combination-epigraphy research. Honey-like life nourishes her elegant charm and vigorous artistic creation. Look at two words:
Red lotus root is fragrant, and jade is lingering in autumn. Who sent the brocade book, the word geese returned, and the moon was full of the West Building. Flowers from Shui Piao to water, one kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure. There is no way to eliminate this situation, only frown and mind. ("prune")
When you sell flowers, you can buy a spring flower. Tears are lightly dyed evenly, and rosy clouds are exposed. Afraid lang guessed that a slave's face was not as good as a flower's. Yun 'an is inclined, and disciple teaches Lang Bi. (Subtract Magnolia)
Jin people smashed the jade garden in Qionglou, the capital of Bianjing (Kaifeng), and Li Qingzhao's love nest in Qingzhou, Shandong Province collapsed, and the family began to wander. In his second year in Du Nan, he died of acute illness. A man named Zhang Ruzhou came into her life. Just after she got married, Zhang took care of her in every way, but she soon showed her true colors. It turned out that he wanted to possess the remaining cultural relics around Li Qingzhao. Li regards these things as life, and The Records of the Stone has not yet been compiled into a book. Of course not. In desperation, Li Qingzhao embarked on a blind alley, larger foe, Zhang Ruzhou was accused of bullying the monarch, and Li Qingzhao was also imprisoned. Thanks to the help of friends, Li was released after nine days in prison. But it left a heavy scar in her heart. The spark of love in a woman's heart goes out forever. How can this not make her depressed and worried?
In A.D. 1 134, the Jin people invaded the south again and abandoned the capital and fled. Li Qingzhao's second exile in Jinhua. The national fortune is difficult, and I am worried. Someone asked her to visit the nearby Shuangxi Scenic Area. She sighed and didn't want to travel.
The wind has stopped the dust, the fragrant flowers have blossomed, and I am tired of combing my hair at night. Things are people, not everything, and tears flow first. It is said that Shuangxi Spring is still good, and it is also planned to make canoes. I'm afraid the boat won't move. I'm worried. (Wu Lingchun)
In her twilight years, Li Qingzhao, childless, guarded a lonely small courtyard and had no relatives around her. State affairs are difficult to ask, and family matters are afraid to be mentioned again. Only the autumn wind sweeps the yellow leaves in front of the door, and occasionally one or two old friends visit. She has a friend named Sun. Her little daughter is ten years old and very smart. One day, when the children came to play, Li Qingzhao told her that you should learn something. I am old and willing to teach me what I have learned all my life. I don't want my child to blurt out, "It's not a woman's business to have talent." Li Qingzhao couldn't help but gasp. She felt dizzy and held the door frame to avoid falling. Li Qingzhao felt as if she had fallen into an abyss irrelevant in all directions, and a terrible sense of loneliness came to her. She walked blankly among the fallen leaves and yellow flowers in late autumn in Hangzhou and sang this song "Slow Voice", which condensed her life and pain and established her position in the history of China literature:
Looking around, lonely and sad. It's the hardest to stop breathing when it's warm and cold. Three glasses and two glasses of wine, how can you compare with it? It's too late to worry. Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance. The yellow flowers are piled all over the floor, withered and damaged, and now no one can pick them. Looking out the window, how can you be alone? Indus is drizzling, and at dusk, it is falling. This time, what a sad sentence!
What is Li Qingzhao looking for? As a woman, she can neither gallop on the battlefield like Yue Fei, nor engage in a lawsuit like Xin Qiji, nor have a friend who can toast and pat the railing in politics and literature like Lu and Xin. She didn't even have a chance to associate with them, only one person. With extraordinary talent and diligence, and with the help of the power of love, she completed her masterpiece Jin Shilu academically, reaching an unprecedented height in Ci. However, that society is not strange and does not take credit. Even the ten-year-old girl said that "talent is not a woman's business." What else did Li Canqing say? She had to chew her desolation alone, and there was only one kind of sadness.
With the progress of the times, many of Li Qingzhao's heart-wrenching things and feelings have been answered, but we occasionally look back at the storm thousands of years ago and always see the beautiful god standing in the autumn wind and yellow flowers.
Sacrificing wine to make flowers (1)
The yellow flowers are next to the green ant bottle.
Late autumn, the thick night, stained with a touch of sadness. The night is as cool as water, and it stops silently. The night wind tore off a few petals, rolled up the bamboo curtain in front of the window, poured it into the house and doused the lights. In the dark, I hold a poem, not suddenly frightened by the darkness; The wind raised my long hair and stung my cheeks. It doesn't matter. Still, it doesn't matter. Because the words in that poem have started chapter by chapter, turned into boiling lead water, poured into the heart, and filled the heart instantly, without pain, only pain.
This book is full of pages, especially in the autumn afternoon. A woman, sitting quietly in front of the case, was touched by ink, moved her heart, drifted with the tide, and secretly depicted a woman's book beside the scroll. Open a sticker and raise your head to sing. That is her love, her heart and her life. Tea floats on the moon, and the reed boat stands upright and flows down the river. Desk, a bottle of wine, a flower.
Moonlight trickled down the lake quietly and softly, disturbed by the autumn wind. Fill the entrance, cold wine; Become sad and speechless; Reach out and see, faint fragrance, thin shadow; Put it by your side and bloom with fragrance. Yes, Yi 'an, this is Yi 'an.
Rowing in the middle of the lake, be sure to shine on it. A woman like that, she can stand at the bow and drink heavily, without losing her charm and femininity as a daughter. Unlike a drunken princess, she is generous and indulgent, which is a typical example of "wandering outside the skeleton" written by the right army. She smiled at the moon sky, so brilliant and so happy.
I can look at her and laugh without emotion; I can laugh with her, my lips are cracked. However, with a smile, a deep sadness instantly soaked me, and my face was covered with tears!
I can see that when she turned around, her eyes revealed desolation! Yes, it's a heartfelt pain. Sitting on the throne of a clan, maybe she is proud and supreme. However, despite her splendor, she is just an ordinary woman, longing for a husband who cherishes her, a group of lively and lovely children, a perfect home, a happy old age and a life course without regrets.
Unfortunately, she didn't get it. No matter whether Ming Cheng was good or bad for her-there is no way to prove it-he finally left her without leaving a trace. So, she is lonely, lonely. Her words, her words, are all composed of blood and tears!
The night is still cold, holding a bottle to drink green ants, reaching for yellow flowers, leaning into the temples, tears streaming down my face. The country, home and love have all left her. How can sadness be condensed with wine? Even if you indulge, you won't feel so gratified, frowning and condensing the sorrow of the Millennium.
Yi An, how I want to hold you in my arms and cry with my head in memory of you and your lost youth! Let the tears melt into the lake and float away, and then carve your fragrant soul in my bone mold!
On autumn night, go boating back to the shore, climb the stairs and walk to the front of the house. She looked back at me and smiled brightly. I reached out and touched my face, only to find that my tears were covered with fragrant cheeks.
Poet Yue Minghua
First, Dongpo bright moon
Langtaosha
Exile the imperial city, hold lanterns in the wind, lead the yellow to clear the warehouse and sigh the hero. In the past, it was very difficult to walk in the scenery of Bianhe River.
There is no end to success or failure, and there is no end to this hatred. Who is with you for pride? A misty rain lasts a lifetime, and snow flies.
After Su Shi was demoted, I specially wrote this word for him. Dongpo's life is extremely bumpy: the twists and turns of love, the collapse of career, the struggle of political vortex, and the difficulty of singing full of grievances.
His family full of hope, friends who have experienced disasters and the world he cares about all expect him to show his talents, prosper his career and help the people. However, Dongpo knows that fate is not good, and the secret door of official career will never accommodate Su Dongpo who is so open-minded.
As a result, he turned fame and fortune into "bamboo shoes." He sang "The River of No Return" on a moonless night, and felt the indifference that "life is everywhere, just like Hong Fei stepping on snow mud". He is not moved by "petty profits and hollow reputation", but just wants to "send the rest of his life to the sea"
Su Dongpo, who knew himself, calmly walked out of the narrow door of politics. Although he surprised everyone, he let us see through a bold, indifferent, open-minded and enlightened scholar of the Soviet Union-a generation of writers.
Self-knowledge is the bright moon of Dongpo, shining on him and entering the long history of eastward spread.
Second, the yellow flowers in Yi 'an
Nanlouling
Su Yue sent a boat alone, but only the shadow went with the flow, and the family was ruined and the wine was left in one place. How can wine be better than night wind disease, phoenix rain and a little sorrow?
Come to the building alone late, hate to lock the eyebrows, yellow flowers are sparse, wild geese sound broken autumn, and a stream of fallen flowers scattered in Tingzhou, when will it stop?
I wrote this word to Li Qingzhao, who has been wandering for a long time.
A strange girl, sentimental, bears the sadness of the country's demise, the pain of bereavement and the pain of adaptation.
At the moment when she married the Zhao family at the age of sixteen, everyone hoped that she would be a good wife with a rich and happy life. However, with the change of the world, out of the bitter war, although Yi 'an is looking for his own happiness, he is always suppressed by the dark atmosphere. He struggled in troubled times and finally lost his way. The boat on Shuangxi carries youth, but it is full of sadness.
As a result, Yi 'an faded his melancholy, gave up his perishable yellow flowers and saw through the vicissitudes of life. After the return of Yan Ci, she diligently studied The Story of the Stone, and wrote down the words of Shu Yu on the cold and rainy night of Wutong, and got to know herself again. Yi An lit a solitary lamp in the dark and hobbled by.
Self-knowledge is the yellow flower of Yi 'an, blowing in the wind, whoever is sad but not hurt, whose sadness contains hard work and beauty. Although its color is different from the color of the world, it always shows strange brilliance.
Li Qingzhao, a generation of poets
A pair of golden painted dragons and phoenixes and happiness candles are inserted on the slender beauty candle slave, and its flame jumps happily. In the middle of the room, there are two octagonal tulle red palace lanterns with golden tassels, which set off the walls of the bridal chamber in a deep red color. The couple sat quietly in front of the dressing table, and the embroidered red veil separated her from everything around her, leaving only a mysterious red haze in front of them. The bride's name is Li Qingzhao, and she is the daughter of Li, the minister of rites. When she is about to become a wife, she can't help but think that eighteen years of quiet boudoir life have passed in a dazzling way. When I was still sitting on my father's knee, hundreds of ancient poems were catchy. I wrote books and published poems when I was a girl, and I was even more eloquent and charming. She grew up day by day, adding a layer of sincere and simple bookishness to her elegant manners. She learned books from Wang Xianzhi's copybooks, and she wrote beautiful small words with iron pens and silver hooks; She loves Wang Wei's resplendence and ink painting, and often studies Zhu and has made several feather paintings. She knows the melody and learned to play the piano as early as childhood. Her father often sighs with her mother: "If I were a man with a man, I'm afraid it wouldn't be so easy to pick celery in the pot!" Now she will be the daughter-in-law of Tingzhi Zhao, assistant minister of official department, and the wife of Zhao Mingcheng, a young college student. She couldn't help feeling it. It was winter, and a servant girl specially sent a plum blossom, worshipped the world and had a drink. She and Zhao Mingcheng entered the bridal chamber.
Zhao Mingcheng is cool and good at epigraphy. While studying classics and history, he often deliberately looks for Yi porcelain, calligraphy and painting. After a year of dazzling marriage, Li Qingzhao also developed a strong interest in epigraphy and helped her husband to conduct textual research and identification. The affection between husband and wife is getting deeper and deeper. Zhao Mingcheng is in college and can only take time off every month. Although she is in a Bianjing city, Li Qingzhao still thinks that meeting once every two months is an annual Qixi Festival.
It was Shangyuan Festival, which happened to be the day when Zhao Mingcheng went home. Just as Zhao Mingcheng was seated in the study, the servant girl came to report that there was a little boy in the university asking for an audience. When my son walked into the study, he saw that he was wearing an embroidered Confucian towel, a lake cotton robe and foundation satin boots, with fine eyes and graceful demeanor. Zhao Mingcheng hurriedly sat up and questioned his name. The scholar looked natural and unrestrained, bowed and replied, "My brother and I have always been classmates. It's been half a month. Why is my brother so forgetful? " Zhao Mingcheng came back, smiling, and grabbed the woman disguised as a man's wife. After lunch, Li Qingzhao, a menswear woman, took the maid and followed Zhao Mingcheng through the streets to Suoguo Temple in the city center. After swimming through Dasuoguo Temple, he stung into a snack bar outside the kitchen. Zhao Mingcheng picked some snacks that people in the street often eat but Li Qingzhao had never seen before, let Li Qingzhao taste a little, and then bought some playthings like small clay figurines to put on the burden of wandering artists. Li Qingzhao, who was born well, took to the streets for the first time. Naturally, she is particularly novel and happy.
The years passed so carefree.
Unexpectedly, both Li and Li were dismissed from office for offending Cai Jing, a powerful minister, and died in a tortuous political struggle. Zhao's father was defeated and his heart ached. Zhao Mingcheng and Li Qingzhao left Bianjing and returned to Qingzhou, Zhao Mingcheng's hometown. Zhao Mingcheng was indifferent. After settling down in the village, he devoted himself to studying stone calligraphy and painting. In addition to food and clothing, almost all the original savings at home were used to search for ancient paintings and calligraphy. A few years ago, when Zhao Mingcheng became an official, he said to Li Qingzhao, "I would rather have a simple meal and wear a dress, but I would rather be a poor man and do everything in the world." Li Qingzhao deeply understands her husband's interests and compares his hobbies to Du Yu's addiction to Zuo Zhuan and Wang Wei's addiction to calligraphy and painting. Li Qingzhao tried every means to reduce food and clothing expenses, and used embroidered skirts instead of pearls and jade. Whenever she gets a rare ancient book, famous painting or Yi Ding epigraphy, the couple will proofread, appreciate and sign it.
Sometimes couples talk about poetry. One day, Zhao Mingcheng said, "I like your sentences such as' I opened a beach of gulls for my honeymoon',' I was in a good mood at first' and' I'm afraid pear blossoms are hard to stop'." It didn't seem intentional, but I tried to think about it, but I never thought of it and couldn't figure it out. If you chisel deliberately, it will be self-defeating. "Li Qingzhao said:" When I was a child, I often heard my father say,' You can't write honestly, and you can't work. Besides, Jin people can write a lot, from Mclynn Killman Liu's "Ode to Wine" to Tao Yuanming's "Farewell Speech", whose words are like liver and lung, so they are sincere above Jin people. "As the ancients said, what you say will be done. Yuefu poetry is a parallel prose, which pays attention to the random distribution of words and the blending of scenes. Singing or singing can make people emotional. If you deliberately carve it, it tastes like chewing wax. "
Then I talked about the poets of that dynasty, such as Liu Yong, Su Shi and Wang Anshi. Li Qingzhao thinks that the shortcomings of Liu Yong's ci are: writing prodigal sons and writing more ci. Su Shi's ci is: only poetry, not words, not reading, not singing. The poems of Wang Anshi and Ceng Gong are more difficult to read.
Time flies. On a bleak autumn day and rich Gui Xiang, Zhao Mingcheng received a letter from his friend Liu, inviting him to visit Mount Tai. Li Qingzhao couldn't go to Mount Tai with him, so he helped Zhang Feng pack, prepare food and prepare a farewell party for her husband. During the dinner, Li Qingzhao wrote a farewell letter for Zhao Mingcheng on a brocade handkerchief.
"Red lotus root fragrant residual jade long autumn. Solve Luo Shang lightly and monopolize the blue boat.
Who sent the brocade book, the word geese returned, and the moon was full of the West Building.
Flowers bloom and fall, and flowing water gurgles. One kind of lovesickness, two places of leisure.
There is no way to eliminate this situation, only frown and mind. "
When Zhao Mingcheng read this word, he lost half of his thoughts of climbing Mount Tai and visiting historical sites. Although people are getting farther and farther away from home, their hearts are getting closer. Before they arrived at Mount Tai, their hearts were already counting their return date.
Zhao Mingcheng and Li Qingzhao have been married for twenty-six years. In the past twenty-six years, the political situation has been in rapid change and turmoil. Song Huizong is an emperor with artistic talent. Besides believing in Taoism, he is also good at reading, painting, music and dancing, and likes wine and beautiful women. Spiritual luxury must be backed by material luxury, so Cai Jing specially sent people to collect famous flowers, strange stones and beautiful trees and transport them to Kyoto for his viewing. The boat carrying these flower stone trees is called "flower stone class". Where "Huashigang" passed, civilian workers gathered and Qian Gu was empty. Hui Zong also built the Tang Ming for sacrifice in the capital, Jiucheng Palace for Jiuding and Yanfu Palace for sightseeing. It was extremely luxurious and aroused the local uprising. Jin Jun went south, the Northern Song Dynasty perished, and the Song Dynasty crossed south. Zhao became the first emperor of the Southern Song Dynasty, and his title was "Advice".
It has been three years since Jian Yan died. Zhao Mingcheng was removed from Jiangning magistrate by the court. The couple decided to stay in Hongzhou by boat and talked about the rise and fall of the country along the way. Li Qingzhao said, "The emperors of China have had many heroes since ancient times. Let's put it this way, how many loyal ministers have been born in our DaSong over the past few years! Li Gang and Li Shuxiang are both civil servants and military affairs, and they were ordered to be in danger; Zong was left alone, dying and shouting to cross the river; Take the young imperial college Chen Dong as an example. He went to the national disaster as a scholar, wrote several letters, and was finally beheaded by the court. Dan Xin is bloody and heroic. " Zhao Mingcheng continued: "The ancient Shu emperors looked forward to his abdication, homesick day and night, and turned into crying training. Now, when the dust settles, China is teetering. Who will miss our stormy old country? "
The fleet has entered the territory of Hezhou, and Li Qingzhao pointed to a stream flowing westward from the north bank and said to Zhao Mingcheng, "That is the Wujiang River where the overlord committed suicide! What you just said was very good. I hope the emperor will miss the old country and turn it into a discipline, crying and wailing. Even the cuckoos from all over the mountains have become his blood! The overlord of Chu was defeated by the deer, and he had no face to see his elders in Jiangdong. He would rather die to thank the world. This is much more moral than those who abandon the world and drag out an ignoble existence! " Say and can't help banging on the mast of the ship, loudly sing a way:
Life is a hero, death is a ghost;
I still miss Xiang Yu and refuse to cross Jiangdong!
In the same year, Zhao Mingcheng, who worked in Jiankang, died in the newly appointed Taishoufu. Li Qingzhao rushed to Jiankang and was buried in Zhao Mingcheng camp. Finally, she couldn't support it and suddenly fell ill. Zhao Mingcheng died, and so did Li Qingzhao's love and hope. How she longed to catch up with Zhao Mingcheng in the grave, but she still had to live. She cast her sad and absent-minded eyes on the book at the head of the bed, and an idea rose more and more vividly in her mind, sorting out the article he wrote to Zhao Mingcheng about the textual research of stone and stone cultural relics, because these stone and stone cultural relics are the source of happiness for the couple in the past 29 years.
Five years later, Li Qingzhao traveled all over the world, including Yuezhou, Taizhou, Wenzhou, Quzhou and finally Hangzhou, with the couple's only remaining calligraphy and painting, epigraphy, rubbings and some manuscripts of Zhao Mingcheng.
It's been two years, and the last day is Shangyuan Festival. There was a flute in the yard next door, mixed with the songs of lotus flowers and fishermen in Jiangnan water town. Li Qingzhao opened the curtain and walked into the room. I saw a few plum blossoms in an ancient bottle on the table, and the brazier on the ground was full of charcoal fire. These remind Li Qingzhao of the wedding night more than 30 years ago, which is also a fiery charcoal fire and fragrant plum blossoms. The flute next door stopped, and several girls were talking and laughing. Li Qingzhao came to the window and looked over there. I saw three or four 16-and 17-year-old girls, wearing beaded ornaments and small crowns, standing in the yard of Canxue in red makeup, ready to look at the lantern. More than 30 years ago, in the heyday of Zhongzhou, on the street of Bianjing, at their age, she also changed into a man's suit and went to watch the lights with her husband. Li Qingzhao was shocked. Li Qingzhao turned around, silently removed Zhao Mingcheng's manuscript from the bookshelf, put it on the case, fondled the manuscript copied by Zhao Mingcheng himself, closed her eyes and shed two lines of clear tears. In the distance of the city, firecrackers and children's laughter came faintly. The night is already deep. Li Qingzhao took out a blank sheet of paper, recited it repeatedly and wrote: "Yuanxiao".
"The setting sun melts gold, clouds see the wall, where are people? Dyeing willow smoke and playing the plum flute, how much do you know about spring? There is no wind and rain on the Lantern Festival, and the weather is warm, the second time? Come and greet BMW and thank his drinking buddies and poems. Zhongzhou is in its prime, and the boudoir is full of leisure. Remember points three to five. Pave the green crown, twist the golden snow willow, cluster and fight for Chu. Now it's green, windy and foggy, and I dare not go out at night. It is better to bow your head and take a curtain call and listen to people laugh. "
Autumn wind is rustling, autumn rain is continuous, and it is August. After several years' efforts, Li Qingzhao corrected and copied Zhao Mingcheng's epigraphy manuscripts one by one, and made some supplements. The full text was publicly transcribed in Jingxuan, and it was all completed. This afternoon, Li Qingzhao wrote on the cover of plain silk:
Jin Shi Lu (30 volumes) was compiled by the Secret Pavilion in the Song Dynasty, and the author wanted to know Zhao Mingcheng in Huzhou.
After writing, ask the maid to bring wine and vegetables. Four Treasures of the Study will prepare them and put them in the chrysanthemum bed in the yard. Li Qingzhao put on her coat, pressed plain paper with paperweight, picked up the glass, let bygones be bygones, and suddenly rose to her heart. She picked up three glasses of wine, spilled it on the ground and said, "Ming Cheng, our husband and wife have been dealing in stone calligraphy and painting for decades. Once destroyed by war, it was destroyed by bandits. There is not much left now. I will spend a day with these paintings and calligraphy in the future, don't worry! Perhaps, those destroyed paintings and calligraphy, you know it in the dark, cherish it and refuse to let it stay in the world! In that case, I will feel at ease ... "Then she went back to the house and wrote" Postscript of Jinshi Record ",and finally wrote
Way:
"alas! I have been Ruki for two years, and I was only two years old when I went to Qu Boyu to tell right from wrong. In thirty-four years, I have been suffering from loss.
How much! However, it is natural to do something and get together. People die, people get, people are stupid! "
After writing this postscript, it was dusk, and she leaned against the window alone, just to see a flock of returning geese sweeping across the sky: a lonely goose, far behind. After a while, it began to rain again, and infinite loneliness, sadness, pain and depression welled up from my heart. She hurried to the front of the box and wrote:
"Searching, empty, miserable. It is the most difficult time to rest when it is warm and cold. Three glasses and two glasses of light wine,
How to fight him? It's late. It's urgent. Guo Yan is very sad, but this is an old acquaintance.
Yellow flowers were piled all over the floor, withered and damaged. Who can pick them now? Looking out the window, how can you be alone? The Indus River is drizzling,
At dusk, dribs and drabs. This time, what a sad sentence! "
When Li Qingzhao died is unknown. Her masterpiece is Shu Yu Ci, which basically belongs to the graceful school. Because her life experience is more arduous and tortuous than Yan and Qin Guan, and because of her artistic specialization and various talents in literature and art, her ci has surpassed and her later ci is also bold and unconstrained. Her poems Miss Xiang Yu and Wang Dao in the south and Liu Hun in the north. Her poems reflect her feelings of worrying about the country and the people.