Meeting My Loneliness is a Garden comes from an accident, and you can also get used to calling it a kind of "fate". It was on a bus in Chengdu. I am used to sitting in the last row on the right hand side of the car. The car is driving slowly. I am tired of noisy concerts and untimely advertisements on the mobile TV. I silently read Zhang Zao's poems in my heart, and I silently read them over and over again, so I want to slowly enter a state of temporary sleep, but this is not successful. I was attracted by a couple in front of me. In my opinion, this is by no means an ordinary couple. The boy is unusually thin, but her girlfriend looks a little fat. This is not the reason that makes me feel that the two of them are out of tune. What makes me feel disgusted is that the girl looks back at the concert on the mobile TV happily, screams from time to time, and pulls the boy to shout, XX is on the stage. Look, look, I don't think it is stupid to behave like this on the bus. The key is that the boy has a book in his hand.
The boy looked up and smiled perfunctorily at the girl. He continued to lower his head. Yes, that's the book. I stretched my neck forward curiously, and I saw this book-clean and elegant black cover, with a golden eclipse in the middle, a faint golden halo oozing out from the dark, and an imaginative cover. I secretly bet myself that this is by no means a bestseller of success or vulgar novels. The boy slowly opened the book page by page. Oh, this is a collection of poems. I read such a sentence: "Forgetting a harp, memory plays with it, silent sadness." "In this city, the tops of trees are wearing helmets, and there is a bullet in every fruit." The boy's book was suddenly taken away by the girl. "I won't let you read it. Watch TV with me." The boy smiled, took the book back and put it in the bag. At the moment of putting it in, I saw the word "garden".
I memorized the sentence I just saw, and I closed my eyes with confidence until I was sure that I could recite it hard. Undeniably, on the way home, the cover of this book deeply attracted me, and her appearance haunted me from beginning to end. When I got home, I turned on the computer to check the information of this book. After searching for a series of related memories, I found the name of this book: My Loneliness is a Garden. So every day on my way to work, I would put this collection of poems in my bag and on the rickety car.
If you read it quickly, you can finish it in an hour or 1 hours, and then put it in an inconspicuous corner, and take it out many years later, laughing at your son's youth: "Look, your old man used to love reading poetry." But in a good poetry collection, every sentence in it can make us chew for a long time, and every chewing can produce a new taste. In this era when poets are defeated by pop musicians and poetry is defeated by advertisements, not all people have the blessing to enjoy poetry. But for me, I don't know why, every time I see his delicate and concise sentences and feel his thoughts flowing like a river, I can hear the intermittent piano sound echoing in my ear-the music contains turbulence, dreams, changefulness and loneliness, and these emotions are intertwined, which makes me feel that every note in the music stands out, and they seem to be talking to me, breathing, running and so on.
This page of the book I bought is a little wrinkled, which makes me turn to this poem every time I open the book. Her name is After:
I seek to enjoy/snowflake and fire/life.
but there is no snow/fire/to lead me in.
So,/I kept my peace./I waited like a flower/I stayed like a stone./I lost myself in love.
I give up/wait and see until/I swing like a wave/between my dream/life and my living/changing dream.
Whether we choose a life like snowflake or a life like fire in terms of lifestyle or spirit, it has long been a collective dilemma of our time. Just as the "fleece" of our time has long lost the sexiness of velvet in the 196s and the romance of corduroy in the 198s, the "fleece" represents a kind of vulgarity. In our time, people can't wait for the arrival of the Holy Spirit with the most beautiful life like flowers like early Christians, and the existence of Christians with good lives seems to have become a legend. We can't stay for a certain person or a certain fate like a rock. We often lose ourselves in love with others and ourselves, and keep swinging under the impact of lust. Swing, swing, swing from side to side and piston movement back and forth seem to be the most typical symbols of this era. Our life is swinging in the gap between dream and reality. Whether deceiving others or deceiving ourselves, it is a helpless choice.
who still believes that there is happiness in this world? Pain and misfortune make up all parts of our lives. We are often happy with a little joy, but what we suffer more is the depression and turbulence produced by the collision of this gap. In this turmoil, just like the title of the book, when we open the book, we can find the loneliness that pervades the whole collection of poems. Yes,
loneliness is a garden,/but there is only one tree in it.
Despair has fingers,/but it can only catch dead butterflies.
even when the sun is sad,/put on bright clothes.
Death comes from behind,/even if it seems to come from the front
.......
In this strange era, I don't know when we began to treat loneliness as a routine, as a habit like nine to five. We were numb and watched so many people die because of loneliness. No matter how many people commit suicide to tell everyone that we are poor and lonely, loneliness is obviously coming to us like an irresistible trend, and it has become an emotion that everyone feels the same. There is nothing we can do and we can't stop it. Many people can have love without poetry, but they can't stand marriage without a house. A young man who loves poetry is almost closely linked with words such as dullness, poverty, arrogance, incomprehension and suicide.
In my office, I need to hide this collection of poems in my bag, and I can't take it out, because in this ordinary environment of "reading newspapers, drinking tea, waiting for meals and chatting", my daily job is to take out the documents from a few years ago and sort them out, and then change them a few keywords slightly and print out a new document. Here, the legitimacy of poetry has been greatly questioned. "You actually like Faust!" A model office worker expressed consternation at the books on my desk. This is my birthday present for my brother, "I faltered. I was terrified as if I had made a mistake and hurriedly put the book in the drawer." Later, I thought I was very stupid, why did I act like this? I began to miss Chongqing, which is 2 kilometers away, and Geleshan, which is 2 kilometers away from the north of Chongqing, and the group of people under Geleshan who said I was handsome. Now, in my opinion, even if Chengdu has the best climate, it can't match the hot spring breeze I felt when I walked on the tracks in Geleshan. Chapter 2: My loneliness is a garden-adonis
Loneliness is a garden, but there is only one tree in it.
Despair has fingers, but it can only catch dead butterflies.
The sun should put on bright clothes even when it is sad.
Death comes from behind, even if it seems to come from the front:
The front only belongs to life.
time: floating in joy and depositing in sorrow.
Forgetting has a harp, and memory plays silent sadness with it.
I was bruised all over by the world, but the wound grew wings.
Loneliness is also a ladder for me to climb to the light.
what you mean is that you become a form.
If there must be sadness, tell your sadness:
Let it hold a bunch of roses forever.
-Selected Poems of adonis/adonis (Syria)
adonis, a famous Syrian poet in the world of poetry, is a rebel with a clear attitude, fighting against power and customs with indomitable stubbornness. His poems are a window to understand the present situation of Arab society. He is saddened by the sufferings of his motherland, laments that he is not tolerated by his motherland, and grieves for the backwardness of the entire Arab nation. He often transcends Arabia's time and space, and stands at the height of all mankind and overlooks everything in life. His singing of the eternal themes of those poems reached an extraordinary, profound and meaningful realm, showing the desolation belonging to life and time.
The music starts slowly, and the sad, lingering and melodious sound of the piano gently touches your heartstrings.
Rub that loneliness into your heart and turn it into a secret garden, a garden only for you.
you are me and I am you. Everyone has a lonely garden of his own ......
Loneliness is a garden
but there is only one tree in it.
Despair has fingers
But it can only catch dead butterflies.
Death comes from behind
Even though it seems to come from the front:
The front belongs only to life.
Even when the sun is sad < Bright clothes.
The world makes me black and blue
But the wound grows wings.
If there must be sadness
Tell your sadness:
Let it hold a bunch of roses forever.