Inscription: Poetry is fire, not rhetorical exercise.
-Haizi
Evening, dear friends.
In which forest did you drop your bottle?
You drink with tears in your eyes, and in what Woods do you bury your loved ones?
On which river bank are you loneliest?
When you move into an empty house, you are the loneliest. Turn on the light.
What season are you most melancholy?
Put down the hectic laundry list, the land is vast and the rivers are surging. Who is holding the lamp and illuminating you?
Which carriage will take you far away and run away?
Run away, you leave and never come back. Which car is it?
This poem is straightforward in an inquiring tone, but as natural and smooth as a breeze. In the inquiry, it is as overwhelming as the burning of fire, and the inner feelings are as sincere and enthusiastic as fire. Ask your imaginary friends or yourself.
What Woods are the frustration of falling bottles and the pain of drinking and burying relatives in tears? In what season, you put down your busy laundry list with melancholy? In what river bank, empty house, lonely place, under the condition of vast land and flowing river, who will illuminate you warmly for you? A series of questions or self-questions, perhaps the specific things have long been forgotten, but the frustration and pain, loneliness and melancholy, and even warmth and sweetness accumulated in my heart are hidden in my heart bit by bit. In the face of my dear friend at night, my heart is like a fire erupting from my chest. It is sincere and warm, with no subtle rhetoric, no deliberate description of the scenery, and no deliberate creation of artistic conception. It is short and intense.
All this, sadness, loneliness, pain, sweetness ... where have all gone? I'm the only one left to make friends with the quiet night. Then this thought suddenly burst into the fiercest fire in my heart, as if to devour everything and illuminate everything: "Which carriage took you away and ran away? Which carriage did you go to and didn't come back?" Thoughts gush out like spring water, directly questioning the existence of life itself!
Smooth melody, fiery passion, just three paragraphs, made a wonderful movement! Yes, it's a sport. Don't you think its inner melody is so harmonious and natural? It is not the external decoration that the new metrical poems emphasize the beauty of architecture, nor the simple and popular rhyme naturally formed in folk songs, but the ingenuity and clumsiness after conscious pursuit and handy. It has an internal rhythm in understanding words, erupts from a fire source like a fire, and gurgles out from the center of the earth like a spring, which is true and natural. For example, in this poem, "Who lit the lamp and lit you up", "Which carriage will take you far away, and which carriage will take you far away, and which carriage you will never return", and in other poems by Haizi, "Spring flows in vain, for whom flowers bloom" (the second half of dawn), "Some flowers bloom on tall trees, and some fruits bear deep fruits. The road ahead is still that road ""All the winds only blow to them, and all the days are broken for them "(four sisters)" Moonlight shines in the moonlight "(moonlight)" I just want to face the sea in spring "(facing the sea in spring) and so on are so smooth and natural. This poem can reach the realm of "the unity of image and singing" in just three sentences, and it really deserves to be called "the singer among modern poets"!
Of course, this poem is not only a movement, but also a chapter, a chapter that truly and enthusiastically pays attention to the existence of life itself! Boldly revealing one's heart and eagerly questioning it, so as to abandon the traditional literati interest and really pay attention to existence itself from the deep heart. Unlike ordinary oriental literati, they are intoxicated by the smell of mountains, flowers, birds, insects and fish, and feel self-satisfied and create artistic conception. Haizi put forward his own poetic ideal by criticizing the traditional literati's interest in poetics. He said: "I hate the literati temperament of oriental poets. They are pale and self-righteous. They hide and revel in their own interests. They turned everything into fun, which is the last thing I can stand. For example, both Tao Yuanming and Thoreau lived in seclusion, but Tao emphasized interest, while Thoreau expressed great treasure and concern for his own life and existence itself. This is my poetic ideal. I should abandon the literati interest and pay attention to life itself directly. This is the road to the revival of China's poetry. " (Poetics: An Outline) With such a conscious attitude and a clear poetic dream, what you write will never be the joy of enjoying the scenery and countryside, nor the sadness in the spring and autumn brought by birds and flowers, but a beautiful chapter to release your passion and ask your soul!