Du Xiaolong lives in the upper reaches of Taohe River, and I live in the lower reaches of Taohe River. At the foot of the winding Taizi Mountain, the Taohe River brings the winds of the four seasons in the grassland, blowing from the Taohe River in the middle of the canyon, pushing away the waves and flowers on the Taohe River, and the sunlight fragments sweep across the wide river surface, rippling with sparkling textures.
In the hometown of Qijia culture, looking for the sparkling luster of the pottery pots of Gaogu Majiayao and Qijiayu, the heroic beauty figure carried by rouge Sanchuan Red Rabbit appeared many times in Lintao of the Three Kingdoms, in the Tang poetry thousands of years ago. Earlier stories can be traced back to The Book of Songs and even the ancient Classic of Mountains and Seas. This place, known as the "hometown of diusim stories", has been regarded as the hometown of culture since ancient times because of its profound cultural atmosphere. Carbonized bamboo slips, scattered fragments of pottery pots, broken walls in the ancient city of Liaokuo, exposing a corner of tiles, hiding behind time and lingering; The arrow cluster that shoots into half of the earth is buried in the cultivated soil, and the tears rub into the dull pain of the soil. The stories that have been handed down to this day and the context of the remains have given Du Xiaolong inexhaustible nutrition in his poetry creation.
The long history has become the past. Those vague fragments of time and fragmented ancient memories, vague but attractive, aroused the inspiration of Du Xiaolong's poetry creation, blew away his hometown and embraced the warm sunshine, which was perfectly presented in his artistic imagination.
Looking through Du Xiaolong's collection of poems "Hometown Blown by the Wind" (Unity Press, 2020, 1 1 version), it contains more than 70 poems of the poet in the past ten years, with works1,which contains ancient memories and cultural implications. Birds peck at the hard fruits of weeds, and their lives rush at night. It seems that they are made up for the plateau meadow, and the woman who bends down to fetch water scoops up mercury at dusk. The wind is blowing slowly from the distant mountain ridge, with a horn bow on horseback, and the turbulent desert wind whispers in my ear, like a few acres of millet lying in a deep valley yesterday. It is full of old sayings often presented in the poet's works, which seems to have passed through a long time from ancient times to modern times, mixed with thin and fragile sadness and joy, fresh and clear.
Camel bells spread out in the chest of Hexi corridor thousands of miles away, grapes and wine were brewed alone, and the luminous cup was considered in the moonlight, which ironed out the pain of homesickness. For example, "the grass tip takes off its first makeup, the night cream dew/takes off its armor and dusts/bends down to listen to the dark homesickness in the white training room/gallops wearily/100 thousand horses comb the moonlight/sends letters on the night of rolling thunder." (horseshoe in spring)
Du Xiaolong's poems absorbed the old silt from the ancient well, salvaged the sentimental stories of time, absorbed the nutrition of Tang and Song poems, inherited the mantle of ancestors who lived on weeds in the upper reaches of the Yellow River, stood on the distant river, meditated, cultivated, mixed songs, and painted poems in pottery pots, which combined the lively rhythm and lyrical rhythm of modern poetry and gradually formed a unique style, setting off the vastness with the image of desert frontier fortress.
In this collection of poems, it is not difficult to see the poet's preference for frontier poems that originated in the Southern and Northern Dynasties and flourished in the Tang Dynasty. Lintao, called Didao in ancient times, is a transitional zone between farming culture in the Central Plains and nomadic life in grasslands. "These plants chase the discarded fruits: hanging in the dusk, hard stones/waiting to be polished: the moonlight of Guizhi is exposed, the bronze that has been cut down/can only be heavy breathing, uneasy stories/and the exile life that can't be let go/they are all safe and sound; There is a residual temperature, and the blade is calm "("Autumn Memories ")
Wandering in barren Shan Ye and plateau meadows, surrounded by lonely backcountry mountains, in the barren wilderness, the smell of lush wormwood is filled, and the smell of cattle and sheep hormones is filled in the fields. Insects whisper, quietly lower their bodies, and commit themselves to autumn. When reading his poems, my mind can't help but emerge, full of the meaning of the ancient road and the west wind, although this image is only a poem.
Climb the ancient ruins and play the barbarian pipa, guitar and harp for him, drifting away and becoming silent; Looking back, the poet was filled with emotion. For example, "Qin doesn't need the bright moon/Crouching Tiger/Vegetation on the Great Wall Slope: the days of first frost or light snow have been lurking for thousands of years ..." ("Missing on the Great Wall Slope") eulogizes the changes in hometown, such as "The train is coming/pulling Huang Jinshan in autumn? Through yesterday's sunshine? Did you stop at Guanchuan River this morning/did Anding people enjoy the potato capital? Man/camel has long disappeared in the Silk Road/Loulan area? Speed up the bullet train/a shot in the arm? Straight into Yangguan "("Dingxi Railway Station ")
The second volume of poetry, When Singing, is a part of the author's prose works, including Walking in Gannan, Pottery, Compatibility of Fire and Water, Snow, Majiayao on Taohe River, I Love the Land in the North, Peace and Peach Blossom, and Han Xing, which are full of poetry and scenery.
Selected Poems: Hometown Blowing by the Wind
Author/Du Xiaolong
Five in the snow? Inflow into green villages
The wheat waves are surging? The poet went home.
Set foot on a deep village
Maixiang and Huatian? Small heart
Stand on the waves
The melancholy of sainfoin and alfalfa.
Tears of joy.
Oats are green? Walking in this world
Now? Empty and empty
Even if it's a hello. also good
The eyeful of green hurts the shocking desolation.
Is the mother with a bad heart at the entrance to the village? How worried I am.
Even if there is a wisp of wind shaking.
But? A thousand times like that
The wind blows through my hometown.
There are a thousand kinds of inexplicable sadness.