About Haizi's death
Xichuan
cherish the memory of
The body is the beginning of the soil.
The body is not anger or disease.
It contains fatigue, sadness and genius.
-Haizi (Diwang) (1987)
The death of the poet Haizi will become one of the myths of our time. As time goes by, we will see more and more clearly how precious a friend we lost at dusk on March 26th, 0989. Losing a true friend means losing a great inspiration, a dream, a part of our life and an echo. For us, Haizi is a genius, but for himself, he will always be a lonely "king" and a "fleeting feeling of matter". Haizi, a rural intellectual, only lived for 25 years, and his literary creation only lasted for about 7 years. In the last two years of his life, he was like a young star racing against time, and then suddenly exploded.
The night after Haizi committed suicide, I got this incredible news. How can it be so violent? He should still be alive! Because just two weeks ago, Haizi, Luo Yihe, Mu and I talked at home. Goethe should not let Faust translate "There is a road in the beginning of Thailand" into "There is something in the beginning of Thailand", but should translate it into "There is a life in the beginning of Thailand". We also talked about the desolation of the land after harvest and the place where Haizi committed suicide on the track of a train between Shanhaiguan and Longjiaying. When he committed suicide, he took away four books: the Old and New Testaments and Thoreau's Walden. He wrote in his suicide note: "My death has nothing to do with anyone." Yihe told me that they came to my house two weeks ago because of Haizi's suggestion.
There have been all kinds of rumors about Haizi's death, but most of them will be proved absurd. Haizi left nearly 2 million words of literary works, including three diaries he kept in his life as early as1986165438+10/8, in which he wrote: "I almost committed suicide ... but that was another me, another me. As Van Gogh said, "Everything I have created for nature is to draw chestnuts from the fire. He who doesn't trust the sun is a man who turns his back on God. "
After Haizi died, Yihe called him "Hong Haier"-Yihe was right, because in Haizi's autobiographical poems, we can really find such a Haizi: simple, keen and creative; At the same time, he is impatient and fragile, and he is obsessed with the desolate soil. What he cares about and believes in is what is dying and will radiate Hui Jin with eternal height. This concern and firm belief contributed to Haizi's lifelong career, although he didn't finish it. He chose us to succeed him.
When I entered his residence in Changping for the last time to sort out his belongings, I heard my own heartbeat. My familiar master has left, but his character remains everywhere in those two rooms. In the hall, there is a printed painting of Van Gogh's oil painting "The Courtyard of Al Sanatorium". In the room on the left, there is a table on the south wall under the window, on which are two reliefs of fasting Lamaism stone carvings he brought back from Tibet and an album of1Spanish painter greco in the early 67th century. In the right room. There are three big bookshelves lined up along the west wall-the other one is against the east wall-and the bookshelves are full of two tables in the bookstore. On the table by the door, there are seven volumes of Indian epic Ramayana, which was collected by the owner before his death. Obviously, these two rooms were cleaned before their owners left: as clean as graves.
This is Haizi's residence in Changping, a small town more than 60 miles away from Beijing, from the autumn of 1983 to the spring of 1989 (Haizi first lived in the West Ring Road and later moved to the new campus of Dongtou University of Political Science and Law). These mountains, which are adjacent to Taihang Mountain in the west and Du Jun Mountain in the north, can't help but know that a poet writes about land, miscellaneous things, the sun and grandchildren in front of them every day.
You can laugh at the wealth of an emperor, but you can't laugh at the poverty of a poet and Spanish poet Ximenes, who dreams of heaven but finds a place on the earth. Unlike Haizi, he didn't find his life position happily. This may be because of his prejudice. In his room, you can't find a TV recorder or even a radio. Haizi writes in poverty, monotony and loneliness. He can't dance, swim or ride a bike. A few years after leaving Peking University, he only watched. I saw a movie-it was in the summer of 1986. I went to Changping to see him. I took him to see the Soviet film Idiot adapted from Dostoevsky's novel. Apart from two trips to Tibet and giving classes to students, Haizi's daily life is basically like this: writing every night until going to bed at seven o'clock the next morning, reading or eating all afternoon, and continuing to work after seven o'clock. However, Haizi is not an introvert. He will be in high spirits. Tell me how he ate water bamboo naked in the field on rainy days when he was a child. He will invent some strange slogans, such as "take good advice" He will tell you that Lao Zi is blind and Lei Feng is a great man.
This man who longs for flying is doomed to die on the earth, but who can be sure that Haizi's death is not another kind of flying, so as to get rid of the deep-rooted pain of the soul in the long night and echo the loud call of the Messiah at dawn. Haizi once called himself a romantic poet, and his mind was full of fantasies, but it was different from the romanticism in Europe in the19th century. We can compare two books of the Bible: Haizi's creative path is from the New Testament to the Old Testament, and the New Testament is an idea. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" and "If a person hits your right cheek, you should give it back to him" are different, so the earth girl in Haizi's early poems later became a singer in the epic of Heaven and Homer. I don't know what caused this change when he wrote his long poem Land in 1987, but his change suddenly brought us a brand-new sky and land. Haizi is eager to build an epic from lyric to narrative.
At least for me personally, it will take a long time to talk deeply about Haizi and his poems, as well as his significance and influence on the poetry and society of our time as a symbol. Haizi must have seen and heard a lot of things I have never seen or heard. It is these things that I have never seen or heard that make him one of the pioneers of our time. In a poem about Rambo, Haizi called the French psychic a "poetic martyr". Now he is lonely, miserable, revolutionary and bleeding, and he has joined the ranks of this poetic martyr. The prediction of his life became his call to himself. We will benefit from the clarity of his life and art and firmly face the dawn of the new century.
I met Haizi in the spring of 1983. I still remember that Haizi was in an office of the Youth League Committee of Peking University when he came. He is a little boy with a round face and big eyes (that was later). At that time, he was only 19 years old and was about to graduate. I can't remember the content of that conversation, but I still remember that Hegel gave me a blind worship. Haizi probably began to write poetry in the third year of college.
Speaking of Haizi's talent, I can't help but sincerely admire Haizi/KLOC-who graduated from Anqing in Anhui in 0/5 and was assigned to work in China University of Political Science and Law. At first, he took it with him, and later he transferred to the philosophy teaching and research section to teach students cybernetics, system theory and aesthetics. Haizi's aesthetics class is very popular. When talking about the question of "imagination", he exemplified the randomness of imagination: "You can imagine that seagulls are God's swimming trunks!" Students know that he is a poet and ask him to recite his poems 10 minutes before class. Blessed are those who have heard him recite!
Haizi loved four girls in his life, but every time it turned out to be a disaster, especially the girl he fell in love with for the first time, which was more related to his life. However, the children wrote many touching poems for them: "Four sisters stand on a desolate hill/all the wind blows to them/all the days are broken for them" ("Four Sisters"), which is similar to the opening remarks of three witches in Shakespeare's Macbeth: "When will the sisters meet again when it thunders and rains?"
Haizi lived in the countryside for 65,438+05 years, so he thought he could write about the countryside for at least 65,438+05 years, but he left prematurely before he finished writing it. Everyone who comes near him and reads his poems can smell the trend of the four seasons and the growth of wheat from him. The brightness and darkness of the soil became the essence of his life. He was outstanding, simple, fluent and sonorous.
Haizi's last poem with fatalism is an important part of all his achievements. He uniquely experienced that "the night rises from the earth/obscures the bright sky/the desolate earth/the night rises from your heart after harvest". Now that I am exposed to these poems, I am deeply shocked by these poems that reach the elements and know that this is the real poem. So now he doesn't have to say that his poems are "the same as sheepskin", because his poems will flow in our blood. Oh, China's brand-new poem.
Ai Qing (19 10.3.27—), formerly known as Jiang Haicheng, was born in Jinhua, Zhejiang. 1928 After graduating from high school, he was admitted to Hangzhou National West Lake Art College. Encouraged by President Lin Fengmian, he went to Paris to work and study, and at the same time came into contact with European modernist poetry. The greatest influence on him was Valhallen, a Belgian poet.
1932 returned to Shanghai in May to join the China Left-wing Artists' Union and organize the Spring Flute Painting Society, and was arrested and imprisoned in July. In prison, he translated Valhallan's poems, created the famous Wild Goose River-My Nanny, and then created the Reed Flute and Paris.
1935 10 menstrual bail pending trial 1937 After the outbreak of the Anti-Japanese War, he went to Wuhan to write Snow on the Land of China. At the beginning of 0938, he went to the northwest to create famous works such as North. In the same year, he went to Guilin as the editor of the supplement of Guangxi Daily, and published the poem "Vertex" together with Dai Wangshu.
1940 went to Chongqing as the Minister of Literature Department of Yucai School, and soon went to Yan 'an to work in the Shaanxi-Gansu-Ningxia Border Region Cultural Association. At this time, his representative works include To the Sun. 1944 won the title of model worker and joined the China * * * Production Party.
1945 10 went to Zhangjiakou with the North China Literature and Art Working Group, and later served as the leader of the College of Literature and Art of North China United University. He wrote poems such as The Cuckoo.
1957 was wrongly classified as a rightist, 1958 went to work in Heilongjiang Agricultural Reclamation Farm, 1959 was transferred to Shihezi Reclamation Area in Xinjiang, and 1979 wrote many poems such as Song of Return and Ode to Light.
Judging from the poetic style, before liberation, Ai Qing cursed the darkness and eulogized the light with deep and vigorous brushwork; After the founding of the people's Republic of China, as always, praise the people, praise the light and think about life. Poems published after the founding of the People's Republic of China include Cheer, Gem Red Star, Cape, Spring, Song of Returning, Colorful Poems, Overseas Poems, Snow Lotus, Selected Poems of Ai Qing, etc.
Bibliography of works:
The Wild Goose River-My Nanny (Poems) 1936 Shanghai Volkswagen Magazine
Bei (poetry anthology) 1939 (printed at his own expense); 1942 Vincent
He died for the second time (poetry anthology) 1939.
Towards the sun (long poem) 1940 Haiyan
Wilderness (Poetry Collection) 1940 Life
On Poetry 194 1 Guilin Sanhu Publishing House
Anti-Fascism (Poetry Collection) 1943 North China Bookstore; 1946 reading
Wu (Long Poem) 1943 Xinhua Bookstore; 1946 Writers' Bookstore
Dawn Notice (Poetry Collection) 1943 Cultural Supply Agency
May spring come earlier (poetry anthology) 1944 Guilin poetry art publishing house
A New Group of t944 Drilling in the Snow (Poetry Collection)
Poetry for the country (anthology) 1945 north gate
New Democratic Literature (Theory) 1947 Hong Kong Ocean Bookstore
Towards Victory (Poetry Collection) 1950 Cultural Work Society
New Literature and Art Collection 1950 Qunyi
Cheers (poetry anthology) 1950 Beijing Xinhua Bookstore; 1952 humanities
Ai Qing's Selected Works 195 1 Kaiming
New poetics 1952 world
The Red Star of Gems (Poems) 1953 Humanities
Ai Qing's Selected Poems 1955 Humanities
Black eel (long poem) 1955 writer
Spring (Poetry Collection) 1956 Humanities
On the Cape (Poems) 1957 Writer
Su Changfu's story (reportage) was signed by Nayong 1960 Xinjiang people.
Returning Songs (Poems) 198O Sichuanese
Selected Narrative Poems of Ai Yu 198 Cantonese 1984 Flower City
Love Flowers in the Sea (Prose Collection) 1980 Sichuanese
Selected Works of Ai Qing 1980 Hong Kong Literature Research Association
Multicolored Poetry (Collection of Poems) 198O Jiangsu People
Selected 100 Lyrics 1980 Hong Kong Times Book Company
Selected Poems of Ai Qing 1982 Foreign Languages
Ai Shi (Theory) Flower City 1982
Collection of fallen times (poetry anthology) 1982 Zhejiang people
Ai Qing 1983 Selected Lyrics of Literary Federation
Snow Lotus (Poetry Collection) 1983 Heilongjiang people
Rare Collection (Poetry Collection) 1983 Huashan Mountain
Ai Qing (Comprehensive Collection) 1983 Humanities
Ai Qing's Poems 1984 Flower City
Oasis Notes (Prose Collection) 1984 Sichuanese
Morning Star (Poetry Collection) 1984 Hundred Flowers
Ai Qinglun's Creation 1985 Shanghai Literature and Art
Selected Works of Ai Qing (Volume 1-3) 1986 Sichuan Literature and Art
Wild Goose River-My Nanny
Dayanhe is my nanny.
Her name is the name of the village where she was born
She is a child bride.
Dayanhe is my nanny.
I am the son of the landlord;
I also grew up eating milk from Dayan River.
Son of Dayanhe River
Dayanhe raised my family by raising me.
I grew up eating your milk.
Dayanhe, my nanny
Today, the snow I saw reminds me of you:
Your grave is covered with snow.
Your closed former residence, the necromancer Wafi under the eaves.
Your ten square feet garden has been pawned.
The mossy stone chair in front of your door.
Today, I saw the snow, which reminded me of you.
You hold me in your arms with thick palms and touch me;
After you set up the stove.
After you took the charcoal ash off your apron.
When you taste the cooked rice.
After you put the black sauce bowl on the black table
After you mended your sons' clothes torn by thorns on the hillside
After you have bandaged the child's hand cut by the firewood knife
After you strangled the lice on your husband's shirt one by one
After you picked up your first egg today.
You hold me in your arms with your big palm and touch me.
I am the landlord's son.
After I ate all your milk in Dayan River.
I was taken home by my parents who gave birth to me.
Ah, Dayanhe, why are you crying?
I'm a new guest at my parents' house!
I touched the furniture carved with red paint.
I touched the gold pattern on my parents' bed.
I looked blankly at the plaque on the eaves that I didn't know, "Happy Family"
I touched the silk and shell buttons of my new dress.
I looked at my unfamiliar sister in my mother's arms.
I sat on a kang stool with a brazier painted on it.
I ate three times of ground rice.
But I'm too shy! Because I
I became a new guest in my parents' house.
Life along the river
After she used up the lotion
She began to work with her arms hugging me;
She washed our clothes with a smile on her face.
With a smile, she went to the frozen pond near the village with a vegetable basket.
She smiled and cut radish with ice chips.
She smiled and took out the distiller's grains eaten by pigs.
She smiled and fanned the fire in the saucepan.
She went to the square with a smile.
Sun those soybeans and wheat.
Life along the river
After she used up the lotion
She hugged me to work.
Dayan and the baby who loves her deeply;
During the Chinese New Year, I was busy cutting him the candy of that winter rice.
For him, he often goes to his home near her village quietly.
Call "Mom" and let him come to her.
Dayan and painted his bright red and green Guan Yunchang.
Stick it on the wall next to the stove.
Dayanhe will boast and praise his breasts to his neighbors;
Dayan and had a dream that can't be told:
In the dream, she ate her child's wedding wine.
Sitting in the hall of the glorious celebration
Her beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately calls her "mother-in-law"
…………
Dayan and the baby who loves her!
Dayan and died before her dream woke up.
When she died, the child didn't.
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On her side.
When she died, she usually scolded her husband and shed tears for her.
All five sons cried sadly.
When she died, she whispered the name of her child.
Dayanhe is dead.
When she died, her breasts were not with her.
Dayanhe is already in tears!
With more than 40 years of life.
The sufferings of countless slaves
With a four-dollar coffin and some straws.
Only a few feet of land is used to bury coffins.
The ashes of paper money with the same hand
Wild goose river, she went away in tears.
This is big research and don't know:
Her drunken husband died.
The eldest son became a bandit.
The second one died in the smoke of gunfire.
Third, fourth, fourth and fifth times
And I, I'm writing a spell for this unfair world.
When I returned to my native land after a long wandering
On the hillside of the field
Brothers meet more intimately than they did six or seven years ago!
This is the Dayan River that sleeps quietly for you.
What you don't know!
Dayanhe, your baby is in prison today.
Write a hymn for you.
Give you the purple soul under the loess.
Reach out to you and hug me.
Let you kiss my lips.
Show you a muddy and gentle face
Show it to you and raise my breasts.
To your sons and my brothers.
Everything on earth.
My big weir nanny and their son
Dedicated to Dayanhe who loves me like a son.
Dayanhe I grew up eating your milk.
Your son
I respect you.
love you
Dawn notice
For my wish.
Poet, get up
Please tell them.
Said that what they were waiting for came.
Said I came through the dew
Has been led by the last star.
I come from the east.
From the rough sea
I will bring light to the world.
And will bring warmth to mankind.
Lend you the mouth of an upright man
Please take down my message.
Tell those who are full of longing in their eyes
And distant cities and villages immersed in suffering.
Ask them to welcome me.
Pioneer of day, messenger of light.
Open all the windows to welcome you.
Open all the doors. Welcome.
Please whistle to welcome you.
Please blow the horn to welcome.
Ask the cleaner to clean the street.
Please drive a van to remove the garbage.
Let the workers walk in the street with broad steps.
Line up the cars across the square.
Please also wake up the village from the wet fog.
To welcome me, I opened their fence.
Let the village women open their chickens.
Ask the farmers to pull the cows out of the cowshed.
Let them know with your warm mouth.
Said I came from the other side of the mountain, the other side of the forest.
Ask them to clean the threshing floor.
And those patios that are always dirty
Please open the window with the sticker.
Please open the door with Spring Festival couplets.
Please wake up this careful woman.
And the man who snores.
Please let the young lovers get up, too
And those sleepy girls
Please wake up the sleepy mother.
And the baby around him
Please wake everyone up.
Even those sick women.
Even those who are elderly
People groaned in bed.
Even those who were injured in the just war.
And those displaced by the collapse of their hometown.
Please wake up all unfortunate people.
I will also give them comfort.
Please wake up all those who love life.
Workers, technicians and painters
Please welcome the singer with a song.
The sound of grass soaking dew
Please welcome the dancers with dancing.
Put on their white misty dressing gowns.
Please wake up those healthy and beautiful people.
Said I was going to knock on their windows.
Please be a poet who is loyal to time.
News that brings comfort to mankind
Let them prepare for the welcoming ceremony, and let all of them prepare for the welcoming ceremony.
I will come when the rooster crows for the last time.
Ask them to gaze at the sky with pious eyes.
I will give the kindest light to all who expect me.
Please tell them that tonight is almost over.
Said that what they were waiting for came.
Facing the sun
I woke up from my sleep in the morning.
I am glad to see your brilliance;
Although I was sleepy last night.
Be haunted by countless nightmares
Your fresh, gentle and clean luster
Shine on the window I haven't opened for a long time
Paint enough paper with a pale yellow color like pollen.
Embedded in a light blue neat grid.
I am full of gratitude. Get out of bed.
Open and close the window for a winter.
Let you put a bright tablecloth made of all gold silk.
Spread it out on my table by the window.
So I'm surprised to see you:
This fact is beyond doubt.
You are standing on the top of the hill opposite.
Smile so clearly.
I tried to open my eyes to see you.
Eager to capture your image
How intense, how trance, how solemn!
Your light stung my pupils.
Sun, your immortal philosopher
You bring happiness to the world.
Even the most unfortunate people see you.
I also feel your comfort in my heart.
You are the blacksmith of time.
A good life;
You cast the days into countless golden wheels.
Flying in the ancient wasteland ...
If there is no sunshine for you.
All life will crawl in the shadow.
Even with wings, it can only be like a bat.
Fly in the eternal night
I love you as people love their mothers.
You provide light and heat for my thoughts and thoughts-
Let me live with passion and suffer for my ideals.
Until my life was taken away by death
After a long and lonely winter
I want to go to the top of the mountain today
Dismissed My clothes are naked.
Bathe my soul with your light ...
I like Haizi.
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