I stretched out a naked arm.
Lie flat on the wall
Let the color of a piece of chalk *
Show off the health of ochre.
Blue rivers flow on the earth.
Blue blood vessels are beating in my arms.
Five fingers
These are five fresh reds *
It's spinning inside.
The blood of the land cultivator
I know
This is life.
Let the pain of love and the melancholy of life
Let it bear the burden,
Let it breathe in
Under the cold plow yoke of this century,
Let it exult, worry, laugh and cry,
It will inspire itself.
Until you fall!
That's right.
According to my wish
On the day of expectation
Will also use their own tragic ash.
Get out of the background
The bright red of the newborn.
This poem, written in 1937, can still feel its vigorous vitality after nearly a century. Ai Qing, a poet, writes brightly, just like a clear sky. Such poems bring people respect for life, eulogize progress and have the courage to never be decadent.
Life: Sometimes, I stretch out a naked arm and spread it flat on the wall, so that a piece of chalk reflects the health of ochre, the blue river stirs in the land, the blue vein stirs in my arm, and the five fingers are bright red, swirling with the blood of the cultivators.
I know, this is life, let the pain of love and the melancholy of life bear it, let it breathe under the cold plow yoke of the century, let it exult, worry, laugh and cry, and it will inspire itself until it falls down! According to my wish, on the day I look forward to, I will use my tragic gray to set off the bright red of my new life.
In his Poetics, he revealed his thoughts on life. He said: "We can never stop singing about nature, because we will never stop acquiring wealth from nature. Just like we always love to raise our mother. " People praise nature, in the final analysis, from the perspective of life.
Looking at today's poems and then at those of that year, we will find that old poets always love life, love an era and are willing to work hard for that era. However, today's poets only pay attention to themselves, rice, oil and salt, and their own money interests, which is far from the old poets of that year.