Attention, let poetry light up life
Zhu Xian, born in 1997, is a native of Hengyang, Hunan. He is a member of the Hunan Provincial Writers Association, whose works have been found in Hunan Literature, Chinese Poetry, Poetry Journal, Chinese Campus Literature, stars, etc.
Jiangli and Huanglongshan
All the clouds are tilting toward you, all the wind is blowing toward the hills
He built a stone temple overlooking the earth at the top of the mountain
In every house, the fruit of industriousness hangs
On the road of kindness, smiling is the background of life
A mountain is dedicated to Guanyin Bodhisattva, Mr. Funayama and Xia Minghan
Thousands of descendants continue to multiply and come out of the mountains
The young man returned to his hometown to sacrifice, and he once again plunged himself into it
Deep in the mountains, use paragliding and swimming pool to create dreams for children
Five years forged a real man, his skin color
So rustic that it reminds you of the ripe sorghum in the field
Drought resistant, resistant to flooding, straight in the wind and rain
May God take care of those who have a difficult life like Him
Confrontation with a wall
He chiseled holes in the walls and filled them with hardware fittings
Seemingly flawless, one wall endured the storm from it
Attack with perforations. Like a majestic mountain
Standing where he was, he picked up a water heater shaped like a bridge pier
Falling from the stool, each lift exhausted
The primal energy in the pores, the wall again and again
Defeated in the resistance, he shook off a body of red brick ash
My uncle, a bead of sweat with large screws appeared on his forehead
Under the brass complexion a green dragon snaked along, opposite the wall
Still not to be outdone, it made him look a few points shorter
Meet the Aurora Borealis
When fire meets water, the mind burns
Every choice is a trade-off and exhausts expectations
When the longing vine leaves climbed up the wall, there was already an abyss below
You hold the pages in your diary, as thin as a transparent life
Waiting for the intersection people to disperse, another autumn pulled the wind
With more whistling sounds, through the memories
The green ghost of aurora floated over the town of Yellowknife
The stars are alone in the image of 2015
Have enough exposure to light up the ground and brew
A virtual sea, a wave of emotion surging in a foreign land
Every encounter will not be disappointed, like the stars
It will not let the sea path shed tears
Fireflies and green bamboo
There is still a lot of light that seems to be bright, hidden in the night
Bring green hope to pedestrians who walk in the dark
That night, they swayed and flew in the air
The stars jumped, as if they were about to overflow the picture
Go deep into the woods and spin around the straight bamboo knots
There was always a firefly flying up high to the pilgrims
The devotion that shook the frogs of the whole summer night
The sap flowing in the bamboo has similarities to it
Purity, no, is enough for me to penetrate with a barren life
Give this light to more nocturnals
Hongshan Bridge
Sunsets that are more tragic than beauty are staged every day on the Hongshan Bridge
Pedestrians tightened their pockets, and the swirls catastrophically struck the bridge's reflection
When running towards it, Hongshan Bridge was taking the name of its hometown
Through my body, one end was connected to the noise, the other was immersed in silence
Some people run from the bridge to the dying love, some people cross the end of the bridge
Seeking medical treatment, the drama of life and death is constantly repeated in the mirror image
I regret missing its sunrise, like saying goodbye to youth
Two bridges of memories are arched, and the white moonlight is passed through
Qingyi Pavilion
A pavilion walks into the middle of the lake, and the night is like transparent amber
Surrounded by tiger-shaped mountains, the cool breeze is intimate traveler on the tip of the hair
A woman's past life tears flowed into a turquoise lake
The stars collect the love and hatred of the human world and fall into eternity
The heart has not yet accommodated enough remorse, the snow of oblivion
Gardenias were buried, and the sunset and sunset once comforted each other
The sound of parting rain fell on the cornices, fiction and reality
Reunited on paper, you get the apology of the sickle from the crescent moon
Rainbow chaser
A colorful glow remained in the sky
This is the first ideal country encountered this year
Pain and unhappiness are filled with forgotten winds at this moment
Step on the light rain and run to the beautiful things
Like a young child, one foot deep and one foot shallow
Chasing innocence, years later in the afternoon
There will be an old man who will throw his excited eyes into the sky
The air was filled with the scent of happiness
Fresh as a wash after the rain, rainbow chasers with time retrograde
In the same river, we all hugged ourselves tightly before coming ashore
There is always a path for the lost
It's like a rainbow of comfort to the dreamer
The memory of a cloud
The clouds that stay in the air are angels sent to earth
Take in the cold and warm of the sky
The clouds hanging over the canyon rose up in smoke
As soon as you fall, you are an abyss
Walk on the clouds on the tightrope and ponder the balancing technique
Practice the art of redemption to the fullest
When the clouds fall, not a single drop of rain is innocent
But affection was entrusted to the earth in another form
Forest back garden
Pine needles are within reach of the balcony and my back garden is a forest
The old rule of survival is to lean toward more daylight
I used to walk alone through the streets and alleys, letting the crowds go
Trim straight bushes, work on assembly lines
Written into the corners and corners, the sound of crickets in the garden is now full
The people who surrounded a city, sometimes the fish
Sometimes it was bait on the pole, and I looked up at the whole forest
It's like a butterfly kissing the setting sun, dying its colorful wings yellow
There is always a rush to make ordinary people desperate
Another example is the desperate situation, the back garden path opens at a fork in the road
Daisies sprinkled the seeds of hope all over the lost
The unturned man was lost in the distance, and the stars blinked every time
The suffering of the world has been alleviated by another point
Even lake
Close to the hustle and bustle of the city and keep her serene gesture
There is a lake that is deliberately searched but not encountered
Running is the rush of meaning, I am a walker without a destination
The encounter on the road shocked the blue sky and clear water
Sometimes the sunset sinks to the bottom of the heart, and sometimes the birds hover overhead
Forgive me for not being able to hold such lush greenery
It is as if two leaves are close together and briefly separated
Meeting a lake and hating late is the regret and blessing of the first half of my life
Garden
Dew hung on the shoulders of pedestrians, melodious flute sounds
Fell into the steaming river and mistakenly entered the garden
It was a fortuitous beginning, and a fateful one
The sickness I have tasted, the honey on the tip of the needle
After going through the busyness, stealing a moment of leisure in the garden
The vastness of the human world has allowed its hidden footprints
The watery writings he wrote were blown dry by the wind, over and over again for them
Reshape the torso and recall the souls that have not yet gone far
Indulging in this miraculous technique is like taking your own soul
Blend in with the side that is about to dry out and live your life under its name
This little comfort in this world
The pizzeria presents a Tanabata rose
Fiery enthusiasm is burning
I'll give her a hug if I want
The sufferings of the world are as vast as a sea of smoke
Comfort each other's lonely hearts
I smelled the sweet smell of her withering
The face overflowed with a sad beauty
If there is an afterlife, I would like to be a white wall
The monotony of the background sets off her complexity
No one understood her grief better than I did
Pioneering
Three chestnut trees were torn down, and they were powerless to refute them
The fish and shrimp in the pond were fished ashore, and it was even too late
Defend yourself, your shoes are sunk in yellow mud
They did not complain and reclaimed their homes on a wasteland for three months
With the body of a weak woman, resist gossip and secretly
Lip service, facing a glass that had shattered into pieces
You've also been in tears, and the little Chinese New Year's Eve lantern with red hanging
How much like the fruit of a cut-down persimmon tree
Standing in front of the built building, your blood is flooding
The full light accumulates a long-lost light, like time
Affectionate praise endowed falls on the empty left atrium
One surgery
A door automatically separates the operating room from the outside
The woman on the stretcher was haggard like a flower after a torrential rain
The cotton cloth on the back of her ankle spilled bright red blood stains from her
There was a rush of blood in her veins, and you remember her miserable white smile
And the hidden tears bloomed this afternoon, and you didn't forget her
Had picked up a hammer and smashed it against the leaking wall, a woman's
Strong and vulnerable are exposed in front of your eyes, standing outside the operating room
A painstaking wait teaches you to practice love and giving
In the face of the accident, you and she are humble like dizzy ants
The ordeal made the hearts of the two little bugs cling a little tighter
Persimmon tree in front of the door
The saw aimed the icy blade at it, cutting back and forth
Click, click, you can hear the sound of flesh and skin opening
A stubborn tree does not cry out in pain in front of everyone
There were still a few fruits hanging from its flesh, and it was red
Bright and dripping, some were hollowed out by winter birds
Some simply rot on the ground and give their affection back to the dirt
One end is a sawn-off trunk, and the other end is a tree stump
It remained friendly silent, and you couldn't help but sit up
This bench is still alive, burning with the residual heat of the heat
A one-man cherry blossom tree
Crush is the dangerous Red River, wrapped in a mudslide-like storm
The hibiscus at the door of the house has two sides, pink and white
This year I had a short flower season, on a cliff
Dancing, the heart-pounding memory is less than seven seconds, enough to use
A long life of nostalgia, love is a non-flower non-fog
A mirage, from a pool of clear water, saw timidity
Confession is a love poem written by The Spring Wind to the cherry blossom tree
Face another familiar stranger with innocence and bravery
And more snail dwellers like me, locking themselves in the four walls
In front of the window, you can see the sunset as brilliant as the sea
Words of time
Beauty that loses substance is emptiness
Everything is majestic and vibrant
And we are nothing more than in this infinite universe
A dandelion, drifting is the fate of this life
How much a person's birth carries
Expectations and pains, the mother's womb
This breeding ground has also been experienced
Fierce competition, life blossoms
Back in the village, the summer nights are tens of miles away
Fireflies fly and illuminate for you
The extra star in the sky
Still flickering overhead
We are more afraid than the passage of time
Discuss the life and death around you
The vicissitudes of the sea are changed to leave and run
The gully on his face was another layer deeper
Eguchi Bird Island
Wait until the warm sun shoots obliquely on the right shoulder and take a wooden boat
Visit the isolated island, the ten miles of the river is like a mirror
No random birds flew into the jungle to alarm the eyes of the people
The trees are left behind and independent, and only the red fruits are lit up
Green leaves, they are the food and lighthouse of the birds
Modern people have been walking in the primeval forest for a long time
You'll also get lost on the map of the stars
Chase the rainbow, chase the poem
Zhu Xian
Good things are always fleeting, and on the contrary, painful memories are so fresh. I remember hearing a saying that life should blossom from suffering, which is such an open-minded attitude to life that I think I am still some distance away from this realm. What I did was to cross the streets and crowds at dusk to chase a looming rainbow and record my clear heart with poetry.
The poems are in and out of the hometown
The farther away you are, the closer your heart is. In my days in the Philippines, it was literature that accompanied me through the time when I longed to return home, and I wrote jumping and stirring branch texts by reading to enrich my spiritual world. Due to regional and cultural differences, I have never been able to fully integrate into the local life, when I re-examine my hometown, I feel a heavy weight, that is the place where my soul haunts, where my most concerned relatives live, that is the starting point of my poetry, buried in my precious childhood memories, but the pen and ink I give it is so little.
After returning to China for nearly two years, I spent most of my time in Hengyang, seen the first snow covering the earth and everything on the ground, walked through the Hongshan Bridge where stories had happened, watched the sunset afterglow shine on Nanhu Park, I got a certain emotional connection with my hometown, when I wrote poems about it, it was as if I had returned to the origin of life, where green water and green mountains, nature embraced all things, I drew inspiration and nourishment from the cradle of the spirit.
Every plant and tree has spirituality. Each flower has its own joys and sorrows, and each leaf also has its own mood of ebb and flow. A kind person has the texture of a plant, and the heart is soft and moist, because there is the moisture of rain and dew, the sprinkling of sunlight, and the crystal clear, people can't help but get closer. The preference for nature is reflected in my poems, which stem from the fact that I grew up in green mountains and rivers, sometimes in my inner world, green grass, sometimes full of wild grass. The outside definition of plants does not define themselves, we use roses to represent passionate love, in fact, they can not be symbolized by a certain emotion, or they can become a unique "landscape".
Nanhu, Pinghu (the even lake mentioned in the poem), steaming water river and other water-related nouns have been "flashed" in the poem many times, huanglong mountain, Hengshan, tiger-shaped mountain and other mountain-related imagery is hidden in the poem, and the landscape of the hometown invisibly nourishes my body and soul, and they echo in my mind over and over again. Hometown, between the mountains and rivers, there is always a mountain that I will never forget, there is always a lake that I must remember, and there is always a poem that makes me cry.
Poetry is the expression of the subconscious
The birth of a poem stems from the deep desire and expression of the subconscious, and good poetry is not pretentious and forged, but comes from the truth, from the heart. When I wrote the next poem, looking back, it felt as if I had not written it, but that my subconscious had drawn out the square words with the help of my pen. Poetry is a new discovery, digging out new meaning and deep meaning in the daily blandness, and because of the quality of poetry, each poem I write is different from the past, with a new face.
Why to write poetry is an eternal topic for writers, similar to the philosophy of "where you come from and where you are going", and has become a basic compulsory question that cannot be bypassed. Poetry has a healing function, it soothes inner wounds, records moving moments, makes me feel my past over and over again, and stand in the long river of history and imagine the future. "Every writer is a wounded soul, and literature is a journey of healing." In the face of many unknowns in life, it is poetry that gives me the firmness and courage to face the trauma, embrace myself, and start again.
A friend once threw up a question about what the poet's understanding was. The poet is a person who wants to experience the bitterness and bitterness of life, the seven passions and six desires, and express the truest self in his heart. The poet is first of all himself, and then belongs to the identity of the poet, not only will use skills and techniques, but also integrate his own values and feelings into the work, not only pay attention to his own joys and sorrows, love and hate, but also look at life and social changes. A good poet must have a sense of compassion and understanding for people at all levels of society, especially for the people at the bottom of society, who have the sentiment of "having tens of millions of buildings in and out of the world, sheltering the world from the cold and the happy faces".
How to keep writing is a great test of a poet's perseverance, and even more important than talent. In college, I majored in English education, and most of the students around me were studying English or practicing how to take a good English class, while I sometimes took non-professional classes, watched literary books in class, and sometimes went to the library to read pure literary magazines after class, and sometimes went to audit the courses of teachers in the College of Letters. The books I read were dominated by literary philosophy and psychology, and in the general environment at that time, because of this maverick behavior, it often seemed "out of the flow". It was this insistence of the university that made me compose my first poem, up to the Nth poem. After graduation, due to the need to balance the relationship between work and creation, the amount of creation every year is relatively small, but every poem is a gift from life to accompany me through the hardships and joys of life. I often have feelings that it is not easy to insist on writing poetry, after a busy day of work, I may also need to face many chores, and there is not much time to calm down and read, and there is less time left for writing. But creation itself is a poet's mission, and the creator needs to find the answer to life in the words of the branch.
Poetry is born in solitude
There is no road in the world, and the more people who walk, the more there is the road; there is no poetry in the world, because of loneliness, there is poetry.
Looking back on these twenty years, most of the time I walked alone, enjoying the introspection brought to me by loneliness, and also blending into the crowd and being a gregarious ordinary person. And I deeply feel that when I am alone, I belong to myself, do not have to care about other people's eyes, do not have to consider whether what I say is appropriate. The words I have written are either happy, or contemplative, or group, or complaining, loyal to the heart, some people see the prosperity of the courtyard, and some people see the fallen leaves returning to the roots.
Having experienced several earthquakes in the Philippines, hearing about the process of friends encountering typhoons, watching another city volcano erupt in the shape of smoke clouds, in the face of disasters, how small a creature people are, people snuggle with each other, hug each other for warmth, and dissolve loneliness with fraternity. I try to use words to touch the reality of life, but what can surface is only the tip of the iceberg. Because when I write a word, I am its limitation, and even more vast is life itself.
Insomniac nights are suitable for listening to pure music and reading poetry, which soothe the anxiety and uneasiness of the heart, just like sending a spring of water to the hungry and thirsty. In the age of youth, most people are confused and confused about the future, perhaps, we have not lived well in the present in the process of entanglement. Because of the love of this time and the violent, sometimes peaceful life, every day is an unrepeatable day.
Rainbow chasers and time retrograde
When you read this group of poems, it is enough to get close to my life for the past two years, and my inner world.
Because of a conference, I got together with a few friends I had never known before, and my hometown was located in Qulan Town, the hometown of Chuanshan. Among the several young people, two of us were doing business outside, one was working at the post office, and the other was Jiang Li, a member of the Huanglong Village Committee, and we talked about the loss of rural population and how to use tourism to promote the construction and development of our hometown, until we talked until one o'clock in the morning, and then we went to Huanglong Mountain the next day for field investigation. So I wrote the poem "Jiang Li and Huanglong Mountain", which mentions that Jiang Li gave up his high-paying job in Guangdong and contributed to the development of Huanglong Village for five years, raising more than 1.4 million yuan to build roads, repair the True Shrine, and build swimming pools for children in the mountains... "His complexion is so simple / Let you think of the mature sorghum in the field / Drought-resistant, flood-resistant, straight back in the wind and rain." I recorded everything I learned in front of me from the perspective of a poet, and what touched me was his invincibility and the unity of the villagers, and the moment the strength accumulated, the lights shone brightly.
"One Man's Cherry Blossom Tree" can be seen as a poem about love, not for a specific person. In the past two years since returning to China, I have met some introduced "friends" and have not started a relationship. In this process, I have a new way of thinking and feeling about love, and in this fast-paced era, it is difficult to fall in love. Some people start together, not because of love, but if there is only love, it is difficult to sustain in reality. So I understand more why some people choose to be single, "in front of the window to see the sunset like the sea", a person's life can be so wonderful and meaningful.
I believe that many friends must have heard of "The Kite Chaser", I have not chased the kite, but at a certain twilight time running, jumping, to chase a rainbow remaining in the sky, "Rainbow Chaser" This poem came into being "born". The pursuit of good things stems from human instincts, and the pain and unhappiness of experience will always be released at some point, as the poem concludes, there is always a rainbow of comfort to the dreamer.
Excerpt from Hibiscus, No. 1, 2022
Editor: Wang Aofei, Second Instance: Niu Li, Final Judge: Jin Shikai