This poem is a patriotic poem with a distinct theme, but Dai Wangshu still insists on the poetic style with imagination and symbol as the core in art. Complex images make lyricism objective, which naturally and novelly deepens poetry in the connection between thoughts and words, and still flows with that deep and soothing tone. Of course, the content should be solid and lofty, the artistic conception should be lofty and broad, and the language should be clear and vivid. This poem also shows the new trend of the poet's progress.
In terms of artistic techniques, this poem does not shy away from the direct expression and evaluation of things, but the expression of thoughts and feelings is mainly realized through the composition of images. Illusion and virtual application are the main creative techniques of this poem.
The poet was in prison, imagining the vast land of the motherland as if it were in front of him. He can not only really see its shape and color, but also feel its warmth and smell its fragrance. This virtuality strongly shows the poet's deep feelings for the motherland.
In the virtual overall image, the poet also described the real things with intuitive details: the flowers on the embankment are like flowers, the fragrance of tender willow branches, the snow peaks in Changbai Mountain, the Yellow River with sediment, and the litchi flowers in Lingnan. These meticulous descriptions reveal the poet's attachment and love for the motherland, as well as his grief over the heavy disaster suffered by the motherland.
It is worth noting that in the visual description of the details, the poet also used the technique of virtual imagination: touching the cool water, feeling the freezing cold of Changbai Mountain, and the sand in the Yellow River slipping from his fingers. These are the imagination and virtuality in the visual description, which is the embodiment of this illusion that I groped for with my broken palm at the beginning of the poem.
Original works:
I groped for this vast land with my broken palm.
This corner has been reduced to ashes, and that corner is just blood and mud.
This lake should be my hometown. In spring, the river bank is full of flowers, and the tender willow branches give off a strange smell. )
I touched the coolness of algae and water.
The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold, and the water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through your fingers.
Rice fields in the south of the Yangtze River, your new grass.
So thin and soft, now only Artemisia capillaris is left.
Litchi flowers in Lingnan languished, where I was immersed in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats.
Invisible palm sweeps the infinite mountains, fingers are stained with blood and ash, palms are stained with darkness.
Only that distant corner is still intact, warm, bright, firm and vigorous.
On it, I touched it with my broken palm, like a lover's soft hair, like a baby's milk.
I put all my strength in my palm and stick it on it, sending love and all my hopes.
Because only the sun, without spring, will drive away the haze and bring Su Sheng.
Because it's the only place where we don't live like animals.
Die like an ant, there, eternal China!