Chimney cleaner.
When we look at photos or visit on the spot, we can't help asking curious questions about the chimneys protruding from the tops of rows of houses in big cities in Britain, or causing warm thoughts about the fireplace-centered furnishings in the room. Because of this, we may not know, or forget, that the fireplace once used for heating hides a tragic history. Firewood burning in the fireplace will accumulate layers of coal ash, which is easy to block the chimney passage and affect the air in and out, so it needs to be cleaned frequently. However, the space of the fireplace and the passage of the chimney are so narrow, who will do the cleaning work? Young children become the main source of labor. So, early in the morning, the child carrying the cleaning tool bag shouted "sweep the chimney!" " Sweep the chimney! Probably 18, 19 is one of the familiar life scenes in British big cities. As ordinary citizens, we may be used to this kind of voice that belongs to our life. Are we familiar with and miss the shouts of braised pork jiaozi, baked sweet potato or stinky tofu in the middle of the night? However, as a literary and art worker, all kinds of voices in life are inevitably accompanied by some imaginable stories! 17 1 1 year, the British writer joseph addison (1672- 17 19) once wrote a slightly ironic essay on the topic of "The Scream of London", which may provide some concrete and subtle imagination materials. In contrast, the poem The Chimney Sweeper written by the English poet william blake (1757- 1827) in 1789 is not only a mockery of the noise, but also a helpless sadness in the childlike tone.
Let's read this poem first! I tried to translate the Chinese part.
I was very, very young when my mother died.
And when my father sold me, all I could do was shout.
Shout, cry, cry, cry, cry.
In this way, I clean your chimney, and I sleep in coal ash.
A man named Tom came? Big boy, he shouted in a low voice.
Because his soft curly hair has just been shaved off.
I said, hey, Tom, don't pay attention to your hair. It's gone.
You'll know that coal ash will never dye your blonde hair again.
He calmed down that night.
When Tom was sleeping, he saw such an image.
Hundreds of children sweeping chimneys, Dick, Joey, Ned and Jack.
All locked in dark coffins.
Suddenly came an angel with a bright key.
Open the coffin box and let all the children get up and come out.
The children are laughing and running on the green grassland.
They bathed in the stream and lay in the sun.
Naked, white and clean, their tool bags were thrown aside.
They jump in the clouds and play in the wind.
The angel told Tom that if he was a good boy.
God will be his father and will never lack joy.
Tom woke up and we all got up in the dark.
Put on the tool bag and broom, and we will go to work together.
Although it was cold in the morning, Tom was very happy and calm.
Because as long as they finish their work, they are no longer afraid of injury.
This poem is written in the tone of a child about another man named Tom. What happened to the big boy? Here, Dacre's English name is homophonic with Dark, which has its own clear meaning. At the same time, this poem uses black coffins to allude to the coal ash world where children who sweep chimneys live. Some critics think that dyeing children with black coal ash represents human cruelty. The most sad and touching plot of the whole poem is that the guests sacrifice the original golden and soft curly hair for the convenience of work, because bare head is not afraid of being polluted by coal ash, and it is also convenient to clean up. Secondly, the encouragement and encouragement of angels have made people feel a little helpless and sad, so at the end, the children sweeping the chimney show the happiness and tranquility brought by expectation and longing, which really makes people feel that "life is here, and heaven is better" (Jiang Yan's "Hate Fu")! As readers, we know for sure that the ultimate expectation and longing of children sweeping chimneys can never be realized in this world. However, Blake's original intention in writing poetry is not to criticize, he just wants to write a situation, an unbearable situation. However, in the artistic expression of poetry, the "ironic" effect that may be produced by comparing and handling contradictory situations is deeply reflected in Blake's naive and simple tone of sweeping the chimney.
Black's The Chimney Sweeper was published together with other poems, together with 27 paintings he painted, under the name of Song of Innocence. Later, in 1824, it was recommended by another important British essayist, Charles Lamb (1775- 1834), and was included in the propaganda manual of the social movement against "social injustice" at that time, as information for lobbying members to abolish child labor. This social movement brochure, edited by james montgomery, is entitled "Picture Book of Friends of Chimney Sweepers and Mountain Climbing Boys". Interested in learning about this social movement, maybe you can refer to it. It is said that the average life expectancy of children who sweep chimneys is very short, and most children spend the rest of their lives in deformity or lung disease. 1840 On August 7, the British Parliament finally passed legislation to abolish the child labor system, and the chimney sweepers rhyming with "weep" officially disappeared in the streets of Britain.
Social injustice caused by exploitation and oppression can appear in various forms. Sometimes, when we focus on the magnificent buildings and the growth of people, it may be easy for us to ignore or fail to see the injustice everywhere around us. Some injustices are so subtle and meticulous that we hardly know that they really exist. In the same way, literary and art workers can exaggerate the rational progress of human nature and civilization to us, or narcissistically tell stories of personal redemption, but someone must be able to explain to us the looming destruction and crying in different lives. Here, Bai Juyi (772-846), a poet in the Tang Dynasty, advocated that "articles should be written in time, and songs and poems should be written for things", which may still have its ideals and applicability. We may not know for sure whether the British Parliament regards the groups or people involved in the struggle as stubborn in the face of social movements, but we can imagine that some members suddenly read Blake's "The Chimney Sweeper" in the middle of the night after the banquet, and their hearts were slightly shocked, and the historical trend was different. Here and now, when our congressmen are just busy fighting and watching pictures to know people, can we expect some of them to read poems and see the world, and their hearts will be slightly shocked?
(Originally published in the September issue of Notes on Humanities Education)
Chimney Sweeper: I was very young when my mother died.
When my mother died, I was very young.
My father betrayed me before I could speak.
It's almost impossible to say "cry!" Cry! Cry! Cry! "
I cleaned your chimney and slept in soot.
This is little Tom Dyke, when he is the head,
I said, that roll is like the back of a lamb.
"Hush, Tom! It doesn't matter, because when you are naked.
You know soot won't damage your white hair. "
So he was quiet, that night.
When Tom was sleeping, he saw such a sight!
Thousands of cleaners, Dick, Joe, Ned and Jack,
They were all locked in black coffins.
An angel came up with a bright key.
He opened the coffin and let them all out;
Then they jump, laugh and run on the green plains.
Wash in the river and bask in the sun.
17 and then naked and white, all their bags were left behind,
They fly to the clouds and play in the wind;
The angel told Tom that if he was a good boy,
His father is God, and he will never lack joy.
In this way, Tom woke up and we got up in the dark.
Get to work with our bags and brushes.
Although it was cold in the morning, Tom was very happy and warm.
If everyone does his duty, they don't have to be afraid of being hurt.
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Net text copyright? In 2003, English Department, University of Toronto, Kaixia County, Ian Lang.
Published by the website development group of the Information Technology Service Department of the University of Toronto Library.
Original: william blake's Song of Innocence (1789). Blake's lighting books, edited. David Bindemann (Princeton, New Jersey: william blake Trust; London: Tate Gallery, 199 1-). See Volume II. PR 4 142 B46 199 1 ROBA。
First release date: 1789
RPO Poetry Editor: Northrop Frye
RP version: 3RP 2.279.
Last edited: April 3, 2002 14
Rhyme: aabb
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Chimney Sweeper: A little black thing in the snow
Little black things in the snow,
Weep! Cry! "In the sad notes!
3 "Where are your parents? Say? "
4 "They all went to church to pray.
Because I'm happy in the wilderness,
Smile in the winter snow,
They dressed me in the clothes of death,
Teach me to sing sad notes.
Because I am happy, dancing, singing,
They think they didn't hurt me,
To praise God and his priests and kings,
Who constitutes our paradise of suffering. "
William Blake
Brief introduction of the author
William blake (William Blake1757-1827) was born in the home of a sock dealer in London. When he was a teenager, his family was poor and he didn't have a chance to go to school. /kloc-started to be an apprentice in engraving at the age of 0/4, and then made a living by engraving prints. He wrote many poems in his life, such as Song of Innocence and Song of Experience. His poems are full of democratic ideas, exposing the evil and immoral phenomena in British society at that time, and showing his deep sympathy for the poor and the unfortunate.
London
I walked on every licensed street,
Near where the chartered Thames flows,
Leave a mark on every face I meet.
A sign of weakness, a sign of sadness
In everyone's every cry,
In every baby's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
I heard the shackles of thought.
The chimney sweeper is crying.
Every dark church is frightening;
And the sigh of the hapless soldier
Flowing on the walls of the palace.
But on most midnight streets, I hear
The curse of young prostitutes
Blow up the tears of the newborn baby,
Destroy the wedding car with plague.
translate
London
I walked along the unique Thames,
Wandering on every exclusive street,
I see every face.
They are all hungry and crying.
Phone calls from every adult,
From the cries of every baby,
From every voice, every ban,
I've heard of artificial fetters.
The crying of the children cleaning the chimney,
Alarmed every black church;
The sigh of the wounded soldier is like blood,
Dropping from the high wall of the palace.
I can't stand being in the street at midnight.
Hearing the curse of a young prostitute,
That curse will scare a newborn baby into crying,
That curse, like a plague, can turn the wedding car into a spiritual fulcrum.