Chapter 49 poetry and nonsense

The summer days continued to burn, and the snow was shining brightly. A very thin thread was about to be broken, and it was connected by the thin sound of cicadas, "squeak, squeak, squeak..." This month, because of illness, I saved a lot of food and car money, so I suddenly feel rich.Although I had a disease without any pathogenesis, and my stomach hurt so much that I was rolling around on the mat, but in summer, I was idle at home and could not do anything. I just wrote an article about Cezanne's paintings, about the ones I saw. The book, about Chinese religion, is elegant after all.I decided that this is my "Fengya Moon", so I'll be noble and let's talk about poetry.

There is a famous Japanese poem translated by Zhou Zuoren: "Summer nights are like bitter bamboo with dense details. In an instant, the dawn will follow." I advised my aunt to read it again. My aunt is a "light intellectual" Typical, after she read it, she shook her head and said she didn't understand, then thought about it, and said: "Since you are so famous, there must be something there, right? But maybe it's not certain. A person who is famous to a certain degree has the right to talk nonsense. " I think of Lewis.The first time I saw his poems was "Walking Fish" in the "Monthly Digest" of the magazine, and it was no nonsense, but it was a little too contrived.When the tabloids laughed at him day by day, I also laughed for many days. On these things, I am even more heartless than the tabloids. For example, the last time I heard that Gu Mingdao was dead, I was very happy. The reason is very simple , because his novels were not well written.In fact, I don’t know him, and if I knew him, I must have reason to respect him, because he is such a model literati, who has experienced all the sufferings of all literati in the past and present, and he has passed away. It is too unreasonable for me to say such things now , but I couldn't help thinking of when "Tomorrow's End" was serialized in "News", I hated the progressive young man Sun Jiaguang and the little girl Mei Yuezhu he sponsored to study. Every time he went to her house, her mother always I want to show my gratitude by inviting him to dinner, and the cost of adding food exceeds the tuition fee by an unknown number of times.Mrs. Mei narrated her husband's conduct and misfortune to Sun Jiaguang, and reported a paragraph a day, which lasted for two weeks. However, I had to read it, purely because it was published day by day. Impatient attraction.I have a cousin who also reads "News". Whenever we meet, we scold "Tomorrow's End of the World", muttering and reading.

Gu Mingdao's novel itself is not surprising, it is worth noting that the public readers can accept such shameless stupidity.The success of "Begonia" is at least somewhat reasonable. Comparing Lewis with the Mandarin Butterfly faction he hated so much must have made him angry.What I want to explain is that I cannot forgive Gu Mingdao's novels because he is dead, nor can I forgive some of Lewis's later poems because he wrote good poems before.But after reading "Home in the Evening", I thought the same thing again, and felt that not only "Walking Fish" could be forgiven, but also all the childish and nasty affectations of this person should be tolerated.Because this poem is too complete, it must be copied here in its entirety...

The home in the evening has the color of dark clouds, the wind comes to the small yard, After counting the returning crows in the sky, The children's eyes are lonely. Trivial words from my wife at dinner—the old things from a few years ago are gone, and in the mild taste of the vegetable soup, I feel some desolation of life. Lewis's best sentences are all the same clean, desolate, stingy in color, like ink bamboo.The horizon is small, but it has no time or locality, so it is universal and permanent.For example like: The February snow is falling again, The dark house is bathed in the cold spring,

Hey, even if there is warmth, it is far away: A wife's eyes are lonely. There is also "Singing Under the Window" But speaking of mine, Green, Love as flat as a mirror, But it is so far away. that far away, For sparrows and crows, It is absurd... This poem is long, and the change of tone is extremely graceful. "The Window of February" is written with a more hazy and subtle feeling, which is unique to modern people: ——The cloud that goes west is worrying, carrying the sad and long cry of the eagle, slowly, like an inconceivable sails. And each incredible day, silently, sails past my February window.

I have found the above few sentences in the whole book, and I already feel very satisfied, because the new Chinese poetry, through Hu Shi, Liu Bannong, Xu Zhimo, and even Zhu Xiang later, seemed to be at a dead end. We talk about our thoughts in this way, as if all the good things have already been said to others, but when we use our own words, for some reason, we always say something outrageous, which is really urgent.But there are also surprisingly good poems.Ni Hongyi's part of what I saw is really good: —Purple carnation, you call it the flower of love, three years ago, summer color paralyzed

in this dead city you sleepless nights... dark night Speech is like driving at night you say The future cemetery has tuberose Let me say a kind of "moment of love"...the words like "paralyzed" and "cut love" are extremely blunt, but they are just for the sake of economical words and sentences, they must be compressed and stronger, and it is by no means intended to be "speaking without language". Astonishingly deadly."I especially like the analogy, "Words are like driving at night", intermittent, distant and sad.Another example is that later you were martyred before your generation

Tired of noise can't see behind, Cover your face and sink... The last sentence is completely a fantasy style of modern painting. Although I don’t know much about the person in the poem, I still feel that she is very similar to her, such subtle despair sinks slowly in the shadow, stretching out a curved, boneless white arm. The last line of the poem seems to be purely impressionist, and the author said that I am afraid people will not understand:—— You are all green. But you may understand when you see her, there is a peaceful trauma in the boundless "green".However, this is unclear at the moment, she is not a flower that has fallen from the tree, lacks water, and has faded, but a broken branch flower on the ancient silk, broken or broken, but it is very beautiful and very appropriate.

That’s why living in China is so cute: amidst the dirt, chaos and sadness, precious things can be found everywhere, which makes people happy all morning, day, and life.I heard that the roads in Germany are bright, spacious, straight, neat and tidy, with towering trees planted along the way, but I suspect that if you walk too much on that kind of road, you will go crazy.There is also Canada, which in most people’s minds is always a boring, vague and deserted country, but my aunt said that it is better than any other place, the climate is cooler, the sky is blue, the grass is green, and red tops are everywhere. The yellow and white bungalows are as clean as washed, and all of them have gardens.If given the choice, she would like to live there for the rest of her life.If I don’t want to part with China—I’m already homesick before I leave home.