Appreciation of vilen and Mu Fu's Masterpieces
Love ripens with wheat.
Yuan Mu Ye Fu.
There is no wind on the beach. Harvest season in the wheat field
With the whispering of the stone coming ahead of time. What about you?
It is the bluebird looking in the air, standing on the wheat pile beside the stone.
The sound of so many sickles keeps the waterwheel busy. Before the rainy season comes
Sweat is still running down my face. low-salt
Dip into the mud and let the wind blow for a while.
How can I say that? Let the raindrops blush with the lotus in May.
Suspended on the sleeping water, that's Tian Tian's lotus leaf.
Hidden in the ears of wheat. Water sees that this is immature love.
The next year will still be wheat fields and sickles.
Make a sound of harvesting. You made me premature.
Just put a fairy tale on the river bank to silence the stone.
I want to know what I will be. I am the wheat you lost in your last life.
Slip from the palm of God and let the wind blow.
The stream stopped wandering. I am not the darling of the wheat field.
There are some ideas, hidden under the lotus leaves and water of sleep.
I don't want to sink myself. Pebbles and swimming fish. bird's wings
There is a lot of news about running away. The rainy season has finally arrived.
That's it, let love and wheat mature together.
It's already the next year, but it makes people wait for a desire to harvest.
I saw the girl who watches by the river every day. She collected a fairy tale.
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The feeling of reading vilen and Mu Fu's poems is: fresh and lyrical. This is indeed worth learning. "Love and wheat are ripe together", this poem just has these two characteristics. Although it is in the form of a propositional poem, Mu Fu, who is good at lyricism, is adept at it.
This topic should be a lyric topic that Mu Fu is familiar with. The connotation and fresh feeling of his poems bring readers the pleasure and feeling of expressing their feelings directly. The poet's unique feeling can be felt from his poems: "There is no wind on the beach. The harvest season in the wheat field/comes early with the whisper of stones. And you/are the bluebird that sees through the air, standing on the wheat pile beside the stone//",without any intention of detailed description, just capturing a certain artistic conception and pinning the poet's thoughts and sighs on love.
Lyric directly, "how can I say that sentence?" Let the raindrops blush/float on the sleeping water with the lotus in May, which is the lotus leaf in the field/the missing hidden in the wheat ears. Water can tell that this is immature love. Immature love is buried deep in the bottom of my heart and easily refuses to confess. This is the main theme of the whole poem, which constitutes the consistent style and emotional appeal of his poetry and a flexible and vivid whole. The tranquility of language will naturally change with the fluctuation of mood and thinking. "In the coming year, it will still be such a wheat field, such a sickle/harvest sound. And you told me to plant fairy tales on the river bank too early to silence the stones//. There are many images here, all of which provide annotations for love. Love is close to maturity, but it takes time to immerse itself. "I think what I will be. I am the wheat you lost in your last life/slipped from the palm of God, let the wind blow to this river, and never wander again. But I'm not the favorite in the wheat field//"I have no confidence in my love, or I have given hope to the people I love deeply, hoping to become the favorite in the wheat field. "In fact, as long as the true feelings are paid, there will be rich gains.
At the end of the poem: "That's it, let love and wheat mature together./It's already next year, but people wait for a bumper harvest./I saw the girl who watched the river every day. She collected a fairy tale.//. The end of the poem tries to let readers really see the maturity and hope of wheat, but not today, but next year. The poet is waiting, waiting for the maturity of true love, waiting for a person who is eager to harvest, waiting for her lovely girl. This should not be a fairy tale, even if it is a fairy tale, it is also a beautiful fairy tale, because there is a girl watching day and night by the river. Love will certainly mature with good wishes. I hope to see a bumper harvest. I believe that as long as you work hard, you will not only gain love, but also mature poems that move readers. In Mu Fu's poems, there are longing and deep yearning for love, persistent waiting, good wishes and deep confessions. Writing poetry is passionate, passionate, gentle, chic, poetic and affectionate, giving readers a poetic aftertaste and emotional voice. (Text/Yan Xuechang Qing)
(Selected from: Literature Appreciation by Tsinghua University Publishing House, practical teaching material for higher vocational colleges in the new century, public foundation series, 93-96 pages. Edited by Zhang Ziquan and Huang Wei, August 2006 1 edition, printed for the second time in June 65438+February. )
Filariasis in July
Yuan Mu Ye Fu.
See a river. Scenery and waterwheels. I was just born in July.
God's child may just be an escaped firebird.
The feathers dragged on the wings of the sun may be just a small piece.
Drift ashore from the endless bend of the river. My love mission
As simple as life. It doesn't fly anymore. Air reincarnation
A river that has never lost its wings.
My family doesn't know where it is. I can't name it.
I stood barefoot on the beach. Not far from weeping willows.
Weary and weary through illness is full of sunset and all people's days, and the water has already flowed silently.
I see. I see. That's it, in that nameless river.
Stand up straight in the moonlight. I will be your only amorous feelings bird.
Burn your last feather. Inadvertently led to the bonfire being deceived.
July. Dirty fire. White clouds on the river.
Finally, it was ignited for no reason, and the feathers creaked.
Has been swaying under the water of sleep. I can't see floating algae and water fleas.
A firebird. A feather. And my fragile life
Never become body double. Whose call and caress
Suspended above the wound Let the salt pass through the water, the wings of moonlight
I don't cry anymore. God's hands are stained with blood.
On a night of burning feathers, I
Holding my mother's 27-year-old hair, she is going to be born. See a river
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I repeatedly read Yuan Fu's Fire in July, marveling at the passion and maturity of his poems. In poetry, the sincerity of feelings. The fluency of poetry is really amazing and admirable.
In the expression of his poems, the constant novelty of language is often seen in the natural flow of music, "Look at a river." Scenery and waterwheels. I am just a child/god born in July, maybe just a fledgling firebird/feather on the wings of the sun, maybe just a small piece. " The rhythm is slow, but it's vivid to use a fledgling firebird to symbolize your love. "Drift ashore from the endless bend. My love mission is as simple as life. It doesn't fly anymore. Bicycles in the sky/rivers without wings. "I feel that love is obviously blocked, and the mission of love is not to fly. The poet didn't say whether the wings of love birds were wet by the rain or broken in the storm, but I can clearly feel the poet's obscurity in it. This is Mu Fu's handy skill. He condensed this technique into his poems and even turned it into emotion.
"cicadas. I see. Just shout, stand up straight and stand by the nameless river/moonlight. I will be your only charming bird/burn my last feather. I don't know how other people feel after reading these poems, but when I read them, my soul was deeply shocked, even though I am familiar with Mu Fu's poems.
The language of this poem is hot and touching, and the poet expresses his heart directly, giving infinite attention and affection to the love A Firebird. A feather. And my weak life/will never be a physical body double. Who calls and caresses/floats on the wound. Let the salt pass through the wings of water and moonlight. //"Love is in shape, melts in love, and sublimates into poetry again and again." "Never being double" shows the poet's single-minded and persistent pursuit of love. Double the body, who does not love, the pursuit of perfection, the pursuit of love. Such a beautiful wish was integrated into the poem and sang a hymn for a beautiful love.
"Real poetry is often a poem from the heart, and it is often a song from the heart." At the end of the poem, love is sublimating, which is the poet's hope. See that river, it is a river of love. Love birds was born again after burning her feathers overnight. This poem easily reminds me of Guo Moruo's Phoenix Nirvana. The phoenix that burns itself for love is reborn, just like love birds in the poem. "I stopped crying. God's hands are covered with blood/I was born on a feather burning night/I pulled my mother's hair at the age of 27. Seeing a river//can be said to be a deep feeling, which makes people realize the poet's heartfelt enthusiasm and hope. The whole poem is fluent in expression and passionate in emotion. (Text/Yan Xuechang Qing)
(Source: Junior Middle School Students' Writing Guidance Edition, edited by Middle School Students' Writing Guidance magazine, published in July 2007. See also: middle school Chinese website, modern poetry: the original text and appreciation of vilen and Mu Fu's Fire in July)
Zero-point Writing: Monologues of Lonely Poets
Yuan Mu Ye Fu.
1.
This is a world within a high wall. My words climbed up the wall.
Like a black ant, from those
The bat fell from its feather. The wind blew in for no reason.
Fall to the ground. Throw it out the window.
There are words on the paper ball in the flame.
Covered with thick black blood. Just solidified
I saw it struggling desperately on the wet ground.
What do I want to say specifically from these wounds?
I tried to open the world.
I stubbornly believe that it is dead.
I'm even sure it died in the heart of the poem.
I know I'm in my head at this moment.
It is still a mess and has just been renovated from the second floor.
Breathing heavily, but I think there is something in my head.
I put a dirty hand on its pores.
My fingerprints are close to its delicate skin.
I can't escape. I have some difficulty breathing.
I already feel that the weather is suddenly too cold. This damn weather-
2.
Help me find where it is. Where is it going?
Its first symptom is the southern cold, which is quite popular.
In this cold season, its face
It's as white as a fish belly. I think it's too hungry.
Many people think it left quietly.
This world. Is an unfortunate death; perhaps
Fake death. Like a belt
The whale that just died ran aground on the beach. at least
My heart was beating at the moment I just died.
Therefore, the time when poetry dies.
Leave me. Open this door, window. * * * less than ten minutes in total.
Oh, what a terrible night!
3.
Let me light a cigarette. Think about you.
You won't give me advice on quitting smoking now. I saw it. ...
Those two words are on the way home.
Escaped from your past memories. But outside the wall
It no longer belongs to poetry. Or death.
For it, it no longer poses a threat.
For you, it has lost all its meaning.
It's just that for me, there is still some surplus value to use.
Many people have seen it on the way to escape.
Wandering. In those neon-lit worlds
Streets and alleys. Three boys and girls who live by singing.
A madman accidentally bumped into it and hurt half its leg.
It stumbled and no one dared to come forward to hold it.
It won't live until dawn, I think so. I clearly see that
It has only one walking spirit bone left. It seems to see.
That night, three children were swallowed for no reason.
Homeless. Indeed
On the way back by holding the wall, I was not careful.
Took a nap. This child.
4.
Mourn for the soul; I hate to see it curl up.
In the corner of the ancient city. I can't see the world clearly.
Where it will be hidden. This world
It's too deep and dark, especially at night. This world
There is no way out. Probably wandering
Is its only way out. An inescapable fate.
Is where it belongs. I thought about it, and I'll pay it back.
It shouldn't get lost on the road I designed. Lost all night.
It hid me in the corner, but luckily I found one.
German or French poodle with white curly hair.
The smell of steamed bread along the way reminds people of the fragrance of Haizi wheat field.
I must have lost it, too. Lost the dog
It is not a sin in this world. Besides, it's lost.
At that time, I was sleeping writing.
In other words, how long has it been?
How long have I been talking?
Wandering. Will be together. Don't ask me-
I don't know. It can be said that I accidentally dropped it.
I have always felt sorry and guilty.
The puppy that has been with you is so cute.
Until just now. I saw those paper balls.
Infiltrate bright red blood
5.
This whole night, how long. A dead world
I escaped from the stolen open wall.
My mind is always in a state of excitement.
I scribbled on the paper. Efforts to think
I found it on that pure-haired dog, even a little bit.
Clues. I think it has something to do with my words.
Stay in one place all night. Their lives
How small it is. How insignificant. No one will really know
Which country does it come from? Which country?
What name did its owner give it, which made them feel particularly proud.
It may be born in the Empire State Building in new york, USA, or it may be in the midst of prosperity.
The streets of the Tang Dynasty. It makes almost all people in China feel angry and humiliated, and they want to beat it.
Fortunately, it was brought by an international student, on the boat back home.
God, it's in the dark night.
Come to me and fall at my feet. It is said that it
Hit many people on Wall Street again and again. Their skin color and hair
Obviously different from us, speaking different languages.
What's puzzling is that it actually
Hurt China people. Chinese characters invented by ancestors
As early as hundreds of years ago, these characters were circulated in the form of Tang Zongsong Zu.
Those people's countries. And today.
Who would have thought that it was gone now?
Just like the two words I lost, I was bullied and injured in the street.
So he died in the corner of my poem room.
My spirit is in a state of high tension again.
Let me add that crumpled piece of white paper.
Was thrown out of the window. I stopped writing.
6.
Ten past zero. The world is outside the wall.
It's still so noisy that I can't calm down.
My world is separated from it by a wall, two walls.
I can't even feel the excitement outside.
I began to doubt the thickness of this wall and its true meaning day by day.
What does it stand for, or does it not stand for?
I have no interest in knowing this at all.
The moment my fingertips touched the keyboard.
I began to feel the beating and anxiety inside.
I'm trying to activate the storage of all my memories through hot start.
I am keeping a close eye on the process of resurrection of one Chinese character after another.
I just want to put these words in a state of life
Wake up and let the darkness inside the wall be extremely depressing.
Like the wings of a big bird. Hovering over my head
7.
This night began to recover. It's past zero. Long overdue.
About ten minutes. I flapped wildly.
There is the sound of a puppy running at my feet.
Those words came to its lips.
Accept its sweet kiss, I want to bend down.
Reach out and touch its white curly hair.
I saw the words I went home and its skin.
I don't want to ask about its past and lost days.
I don't know what it is.
I think, tonight
It's too cold. I won't let your poodle
Lying on the terrace under the eaves
It's under my skin, the moon.
According to its bright eyes, it looks like a plateau lake.
This osprey shivers and bows from time to time.
Imagine a lonely traveler.
Make an appreciative comment
Yuan Fu's new poem "Zero Writing: A Soliloquy of a Lonely Poet" sounded the alarm for the poet. He reminded them of the development of new poetry. He showed people the charm of poetry and brought us some fresh feelings with the language of poetry. It gives us a novel topic and brings people deep thinking.
In the era of rapid development of the Internet, it is a materialistic and poetic era. People's impetuous hearts are looking for a quiet home and want to pin their souls in this home. At this time, a dime a dozen poetry schools appeared, and some people wanted to innovate. This cannot be denied, but we should explore how to make new poetry find its proper position and how to grasp the internal style and expression of poetry.
In my opinion, Mr. Yuan's Fu is just such a modern poet. He is one of the few poets who can move forward silently independently of any group and manifesto, and he is also one of the few poets who constructed the poetic theory system of "the positioning and thinking of China's new poetry movement" and practiced the poetic concept of "the positioning and thinking of China's new poetry movement" in his poetry creation. I want to emphasize that it is not easy to do this. In China's poetry circle, there are so many fashionable poets who lack personal poetic ideas but only know how to keep up with the trend, and so many two-faced poets who flaunt their personal writing and engage in small circles and gangs. Then, when I read many poems by vilen and Mu Fu, I found that there was obvious interaction and complementarity between his poetry theory and poetry creation.
Vilen and Mu Fu's "Towards: Orientation and Thinking of the New Han Poetry Movement" is like a stone thrown on the calm water. While splashing ripples, it also sounded the alarm for our poetry reform and laid many cornerstones for our poetry. Breaking the cocoon into a butterfly, maybe there is no need for our poetry to leap from now on.
In Trend: Orientation and Thinking of the Poetry Movement in the New Han Dynasty, he clearly stated his views: "As a poet, I know that poetry has always been such an art, not only coordinating actions and eliminating fatigue, but also its greatest function is to purify the spiritual world and soothe the injured soul and inner impetuousness. What's more, China, as an ancient poetry country, has always been able to arouse the awakening of a country and the rise of a nation. Poetry is the origin of China culture. Here we see a pure pioneer in promoting China's new poetry culture. We not only see the poet's persistent pursuit of simplicity and sincerity in China's new poems. At the same time, I also saw the poet go deep into the core of poetry and skillfully combine nature with life and humanity. I also saw his love and pursuit of poetry, as well as his feelings and feelings about life.
Vilen and Mu Fu, like many poets, advocated spiritual purity, especially in advocating China's modern poetry. He advocates "personalized" writing and wants to write good works with vitality and contribute to the world. Although "this world. Is an unfortunate death; Or fake death. Like a whale that just died, stranded on the beach. At least/at the moment I just died, my heart was beating/then, when the poem died/when I opened this door and window. Less than ten minutes/-Oh, what a terrible night. " The death or suspended animation of poetry implied by this world and this world, the concreteness and abstraction of this two-way transformation, are opposite, indicating that poetry is on the verge of death and has had a shocking impact. The establishment of metaphors such as "death", "suspended animation", "I opened this door" and "window" in this poem directly depends on the logical fallacy of the hinge between life and death: before "death", I want to open this door and window, let the poem see hope again, explore new ways of poetry, and let you suddenly realize when you see the scenery of thought. This is a new poem by China. It is very important to pursue and explore a new way suitable for the development of China's new poetry.
There are many so-called avant-garde experimenters who have planted a lot of weeds in the paradise of poetry. So far, they don't know whether it is green land or wasteland, which needs future generations to identify. Where there are fruit trees, there will be weeds and fruit trees will be uneven. In the uneven orchard, we saw Zero Writing: A Lonely Poet's Monologue. The fruit trees really irrigated with the mind are growing well, which is very gratifying.
After reading the poems of vilen and Mu Fu, the soul will be purified. He really understood the charm of the muse and carried forward the traditional culture. In promoting China's modern poetry writing, he advocated poetic and diversified writing. "This is the world inside the wall. My words are like a black ant climbing the wall/falling off the feathers of those bats. The wind blows in/down for no reason. Throw it out of the window/throw the paper ball into the flame with words. " Mu Fu's poems leave us a lot of room for thinking. He combines sensibility and rationality perfectly, and his skillful writing skills are an example for us to learn.
"In this world, losing a dog is not a sin. What's more, it was lost/at that time, how long did I sleep before I started writing/now, that is to say/how long did it wander with my words/. Will be together. Don't ask me-/I don't know. It can be said that I accidentally dropped it/I have always regretted it/the puppy that has been with you is so cute/until just now. I saw bright red blood on those paper balls. " The literary realm presented in the poem is lofty, wrapped in a whirlpool that goes deep into the bone marrow. But it is not a muddy "torrent", but a dislocation and dissociation between concreteness and firm and inevitable abstraction, accurate and keen intuition, introverted and powerful language potential in accidental loss. The lost dog here is an absolutely true feeling in the poet's heart. Poetry and dogs are the author's favorite things. They are so cute, the real thing appears and emerges.
Yuan Mu Ye's Fu put it well: "Poetry is an extraordinary culture and a language art that shocks, purifies and calms the spiritual world. This is a confused period in which materialism generally leads to a crisis of faith, but poetry can save people's lost or uneasy souls, arouse people's conscience and sincerity, and let people find spiritual exports in impetuousness and confusion. "
Poetry. First of all, it should be a high degree of harmony and unity between life and spirit, followed by concise and repeatedly tempered language essence, which should have its profound connotation. The soul of a poetic muse should be noble, not the so-called subversion of tradition. While inheriting the excellent culture of the motherland for thousands of years, we should constantly discard the false and retain the true, and inherit and carry forward our splendid civilization. The art of poetry should be able to withstand loneliness, and poetry should be personalized, poetic and diversified; Personality and * * * coexist, and it is the spirit of the poet who can really appreciate the charm of poetry.
Reading the poems of vilen and Mu Fu, we can appreciate these styles, that is, the atmosphere and generosity coexist, and the innocence and clarity of thought coexist, which constantly give people a positive spirit. His lyrical style is not excessive, and his poems are rich in details. He expresses the cultural details of our motherland with his personality, giving people the feeling of natural synthesis, and there is no trace of deliberate carving.
From these poems, we can see that his personality is distinct and his poetic concept is noble, which has both masculine beauty of men and rhythmic beauty of both rigidity and softness. His poems are full of simplicity and passion. We can frankly say that such a poem cannot be written without a wise understanding of life. It is by advocating the writing of China's new poems that Mr. vilen Mu Fu tried to reflect and reveal something to people, so as to attract people's attention to China's modern poems and reflect the poet's charm.
I think whether this goal of vilen and Mu Fu is achieved or not, his poems are of far-reaching significance. When it comes to the history of poetry, as early as hundreds of years ago, poetry has been passed down to this day as Tang Zong and Song Zu. "And it's today/who would have thought that it's gone now/just like the two words I lost, it was forcibly injured in the street/it just died in the corner between my poems/my spirit is in a state of high tension/I was thrown out of the window with that crumpled white paper. I won't write. " Here, the author captures and establishes his own poetic image, which makes it gain eternal charm, although the spirit is still in a state of high tension, which is also the reason why every poet is confused. As far as vilen and Mu Fu are concerned, the existence and death of poetry is obviously the life image he deliberately reproduced in his poems. I vaguely see his concern and love for poetry writing. Poetry is the background of his subconscious life, the image of life blending, and it constitutes the image and proposition that he always pays attention to in his life space. He emphasized writing in his poems countless times, in fact, he may be expounding a complex inseparable from poetry, a kind of beauty and sadness buried in the depths of his soul that he is extremely unwilling to touch. Deviation is often due to deeper proximity. In my reading of vilen's and Mu Fu's poems, we can often see that he evaded his inner world with the help of unconscious use, thus giving people a painful effect that goes deep into the bone marrow.
Among poets, many people write poems passively, because real life strengthens their inspiration. People with higher understanding don't passively write poems for the sake of poetry, but write poems by doing nothing, naturally and consciously. I think Yuan Fu is such a poet. He has always stressed that if a poet wants to reach the deepest part of the human soul, he must explore the treasure of the soul, open the door to mysterious poetry and enter the infinitely vast and beautiful world of poetry. "I think it was too cold that night. I won't let your poodle/lie on the terrace under the eaves/it lies under my skin, and the moon/shines on its bright eyes, just like the lake on the plateau/the trembling osprey, thinking of a lonely traveler from time to time. " You can't write such a poem if you are impetuous and utilitarian. "When my fingertips touched the keyboard/I began to feel the beating and anxiety in my heart/I tried to activate the storage of all my memories through hot start/I was staring at the process of reviving one Chinese character after another/I just wanted to wake up these characters in a state of life/make the darkness in the wall extremely depressed/like the wings of a big bird. Hovering over my head. " Every truly pure poet is bound to pay attention to the world in his works. These concerns gradually condensed in his writing attracted readers like a magnetic field, and the poet gradually activated his memory of words by means of hot start. Just like the writing spirit of the world wandering between heaven and earth, it will surely wake up in the strong call of the author and will surely be awakened again before it is about to die. Vilen and Mu Fu are full of love for poetry, which makes me clearly see the call from the depths of the poet's soul when I read his poems. This call is like a strong spring breeze blowing in the poetry garden. ...
Many poets with excellent literary talent are stagnant in artistic level, keen on fame and fortune, addicted to flattery and playing with words. We emphasize "being indifferent to our aspirations, being quiet and far-reaching", and we can't write good works without calming down. Poets should be quiet in their creative ideas and attitudes. Vilen and Mu Fu's personal views on poetry are as follows: poetry is natural without Tao; Nature has no time, only diligence. I use the money I earn from doing business to feed my poor poems, and at the same time, I use poems to save my lonely and restless soul. "I want to rely on business to support my poor poem", which moved me and even made me cry.
Finally, I ended with a sentence from vilen and Mu Fu: "To tell the truth, I don't like words that are too elegant or too polished, but I don't like poetic exposition or meaningless meditation. But I said, "I don't reject anyone's poems, but I still love to go my own way." "Because no matter how beautiful the words are, if they don't have their own personalized and unique spiritual world as the bearing behind the poems, they will soon be overwhelmed by time ... So, I have always advocated the personalization, poeticization and diversification of poems, and advocated writing special emotions in the artistic conception. I think: Yuan has done a good job in this respect, and I expect him to go further. (See Michelle Evergreen: The Call of a Poet's Soul)