Lu De'an | The 5th "Yuan Kejia Poetry Award and Poetry Collection Award"

Yuan Kejia Poetry Prize

Poetry Collection Award

Poet of the award: Lu De'an

Winning Work: "Evening Rain: Selected Poems of Lu De'an in forty Years (1979-2019)" (Beijing United Publishing Co., Ltd.)

Lu De'an | The 5th "Yuan Kejia Poetry Award and Poetry Collection Award"

(Image from Yazhong Culture)

Award Speech:

The poet Lu De'an understands writing poetry as a kind of excavation, a kind of act of picking up stones behind silence, this attitude seems to be low-key, but in fact it is full of passion, which can make life show a simple texture in the process of digging, picking, polishing, listening, and even throwing into the void, and also let the keen heart communicate with the infinite vitality of the world. "Evening Rain: Selected Poems of Lu De'an in forty Years (1979-2019)" includes the essence of Lu De'an's poetry writing in the past 40 years, which not only fully presents the poet's writing career, but also has very important documentary value for contemporary poetry. Reading this stone-thick collection of poems, we can feel the perfect combination of superb skill and rich ethical feelings, and it is as if we can see a craftsman who has continued to work, and has laid a long and solid baseline for contemporary poetry with simple and clean words. In view of this, the fifth "Yuan Kejia Poetry Prize and Poetry Collection Award" was awarded to "Evening Rain: Selected Poems of Lu De'an forty Years (1979-2019)" and Mr. Lu De'an.

(Written by Jiang Tao)

Ludean Lv Dean

Born in 1960, a native of Fujian, he is a famous poet and painter. In the early 1980s, he founded the Friday Poetry Society with his fellow poets and painters, began to publish poetry works, and joined the Nanjing "They" poetry group. During this period, he wrote a collection of personal poems "Paper Snake", "The Other Half of Life", and "North of the South". In the early 1990s, he lived in New York, USA, and made a living by painting, writing the long poem "Mankato". In the same year, in the middle of the mountain in his hometown of Beifeng, Fujian, he began to compose a long poem "Suitable for It". In 1998, he published the poetry collection "Hard Stone", in 2011, he published the poetry collection "Suitable for It", and in 2013, he entered the Beijing studio to specialize in painting creation. Published "Long Poems" and "Lu De'an's Early Folk Song Poetry in the Early 1980s"; published the poetry collection "Two Pieces of Soil with Different Colors" in 2014, published the essay collection "Up and Down the Mountain" in 2016, published the essay "Writing Poems, Paintings and Paintings on the Mountain" to build a house in 2018, and published "Evening Rain - Lu De'an's Forty Years of Poetry Selection" in 2020. He has won many important poetry awards such as the first Literary Award, the October Literature Award, and the Southern Literary Festival Poet Award.

Winner of the "Yuan Kejia Poetry Prize and Poetry Collection Award" is Lu De'an

Recommended Bibliography:

Han Dong, "Fifty Thousand Words", Sichuan Literature and Art Publishing House, 2020-3

The pioneering nature of Han Dong's poetry since the 1980s has been recognized, and the poetry essay "Fifty Thousand Words" is an insight into the art of poetry in the mature stage of his creation. Given that its rich thinking is widely related to contemporary Chinese poetry, I think it is already a representative work of contemporary poetics.

Selected works from Ludean's poems

Father and I

We walked side by side

Autumn rains take a break

And the previous shower of rain

It's like years apart

We walked in the break between rain and rain

Shoulders rested clearly together

But there is not a single word to say

We just got out of the house

So there is not a single word to say

It's about living together for a long time

caused

The sound of dripping water

Like a thin branch folded down

Like a plum blossom over the winter

Father's hair was completely white

But it's almost a kind of soul

It will make people awe-inspired

It's still a familiar street

Familiar people should raise their hands in greeting

My father and I both had unspeakable kindness

Walk peacefully

whale

On a winter night, a swarm of whales storms the village

Quietly occupied half of the land

Like the mountain in front of the door, persuasion can not be persuaded to go

What to do, is not to want to leave this place

Dark, stubborn, not answering. Just go

A deep hole roared at their mouths

But most of what is heard is the voice of the person himself

Shine a lamp into their eyes: a imprisoned sea

Probe their mysterious weight with your hands

Power is lost, reduced to nothingness, boundless

What to do, is not willing to take a step

It's about coming to live with us

These whales, although they are amphibious, have enjoyment

Air freedom, crawling and village moon

Even half the power of the land

But none of this allows us

Hail the tides for them before they die

The huge body resembles an asthmatic illness that is stalling for time

It was dawn, and the window was open, the sea

Just a few meters away, but from their eyes

They are not welcome, they have created a historic

The suicide, dead. Dead plus their own weight

Oppressed the heart of the earth for a long time

Like the mountain in front of the gate, people brought tools

Trying to remove them, people seem to be digging

But the soil will dig more and more, and if it touches the stone

Those controversial bones, take them out

Masonry to the wall became inconspicuous

Like the mountain in front of the gate, people dig holes in it

From the hole to the hole, all in the direction of the sea

People process their fat into lamp oil

Give to the church, the rest to the family, everywhere

Everywhere was the fishy smell of fish

And the mint flavor of truth, even today

Those actions remain persuasive

At least not like whales, which suddenly come in the night

Suspicious, and frustrating

Rain in the evening

Escape the heat all day until late afternoon

There was thunder, followed by wind and rain

Fill the almost depleted stream and form

The so-called flash floods; yo, all day I almost

Not aware of a little reality until it rains

It was only when I fell into the valley that I heard someone

Shouting at a bend somewhere, faintly

I learned that in another place those were exposed for three days

The ears of thatched flowers used to tie brooms are to be called

It's too late to move it as much as possible. or

In fact, there is not a single person in the vicinity who really exists

Only the flood roared in the darkness of the day

Only I sat in the kitchen resting and drinking water

Watch the birds fly over the window, one by two

Watching the rain fall one after another, falling into one blind spot after another——

Yo, I thought there would never be an accident in this world again

But when I ran into the rain like a madman

Stepping on the hot stone, I found myself like this

Primitive and easily frightened, almost involuntary

The last snow

The snow in front of the window was already unconscious

It's a foot thicker. It piles up into the room

It will be as high as a knee. I think so

Maybe just to make yourself happy

It's like that crow jumping and jumping

Today it fell there alone

It was as if the world was roaming in white

From its night fullness (that black shyness)

But if it keeps making noise

Only because I know the time of day

How much is left before dark, finally

It summoned a piece of other black pressure

That would have been a different story

I'd rather have a curtain in the middle

Block some of what you don't want to see

It is better to see something else

Only the crystal can be contained in the eyes

One point, two points, or just a few

Then let them fall, fall

All fall on the strings of the earth

Or it's like changing you in the room

I couldn't help but shout out: I love

The crow, as it loves the world—

Thus begins our whole parable

Or still with the blues of the room

Call that warm desire to become

Something that can gaze at each other is called the world

The desolation that turned out to be impossible to see

Complete a real encounter

Or continue to estimate what you want

Through the hole in the ice window, through the crow

Infinite black, and then sniff its white

Until all this becomes irreplaceable

Lu De'an | The 5th "Yuan Kejia Poetry Award and Poetry Collection Award"

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