I am empty-handed at the end of the grassland.
I can't keep a tear when I am sad.
Sister, I am in Delingha tonight.
This is a desolate city in the rain.
These four sentences have fully explained how great Haizi's inner loneliness is, and it is simply a black hole of life, devouring everything. Everything in life is constantly lost here: happiness, loss, sadness, love, affection, friendship and so on. When I am in pain, I don't even have the strength to cry. Faced with the strength of nature and the overall ignorance of human beings, I do nothing, and I can't make any sound. This is what the poet really wants to tell people.
Delingha tonight, in the poet's mind, is undoubtedly creating great despair, this desolate city, where the poet really realizes the realm of life is worse than death. Every second is devouring the poet's kindness and broad feelings.
Except those who pass by and live.
Delingha ... Tonight.
This is the only, final and lyrical.
This is the only, last, grassland.
However, in the end, this is an extreme expression, the most desperate cry that human beings can make at present, and the end of all words. In poetry, in life, in the universe, the last and only thing is death.
Perhaps the poet hasn't given his body and soul to God yet, but the sad singing that night decided the only ending. Haizi will lose everything, poetry, emotion and creative talent on this day.
Of course, this is not a permanent loss, but this empty exhibition has eroded the poet's soul. Just like the original wetland with abundant water plants, all the beauty suddenly dried up in a sea of fire.
The poet is such a resource. The loneliness, indifference and incomprehension caused by the gap between people are the extreme daggers that strangle the poet, and they are inserted in the most sensitive areas of the poet's heart day and night. No matter who it is, it is impossible to endure this mental torture for a long time.
Yes, the only poet who can write a poem like a diary is death. This seemingly moody poem is actually the poet's real despair of death.
I returned the stone to the stone.
Let the victory of victory
Tonight, highland barley belongs only to himself.
Everything is growing.
I only have beautiful Gobi sky tonight.
Sister, I don't care about humans tonight, I just want you.
Is the poet rich in material things? No, the poet is poor, but he is also strong. The poet has a stone in his hand, and his quality is like a stone. Quality is not equal to emotion, and the whole poem is woven into a complete picture by an extremely delicate emotion. What can a poet do except fight against death and stick to his stone-like beliefs?
"Let the victory of victory, tonight's highland barley only belong to oneself", which is the poet's incompleteness and the reason for its incompleteness. We can't blame the poet. Haizi is human, too. Living under the stubborn ideology formed by China's 5,000-year history of civilization, Haizi can't be completely divorced from the breath of Han people, but independent from poetry. Therefore, this sentence is undoubtedly faint, with the unique conscience of China people, he finished his last breath in poetry.
Everything is growing, including the black hole in the poet's heart, expanding and expanding. At first, it oppressed thoughts and emotions, and finally it completely collapsed, even including the collapse of the body itself. The poet, with his only consciousness, wandered in the dreamland of life and death, unable to adjust himself. Sister, this moral is an infinitely warm name. When the poet calls his sister in his heart, the only thing that can resist the endless cold for the poet in Delingha tonight is the vague consciousness of the word. ......