How many places will a person stop in his lifetime, and how many people will he meet?
Some people live such a simple life. Crawling in the homeland, growing on the homeland, never leaving the land in his life, what he saw was the people in the village, and after death, he was buried in the underground of his hometown and became part of the land.
Some people are much richer and more colorful. Leaving home, like a free bird, under the wings is the boundless earth, endless villages, cities, countless perching branches. How many people, how many things, over the clouds. Reading countless people and enjoying the scenery is synonymous with their lives.
There are also many people whose life trajectory is roughly like this: in the pupils of childhood, the images of their parents and countrymen are displayed; the sunny teenagers are the time of the homeland school; the figures of youth, jumping in the lecture halls, green spaces and playgrounds of the university; since their alma mater, they are stationed in a city, working in a unit, and occasionally going to other places for business trips and wandering, but they are accustomed to living around, except for their families, but they are three or five friends and ten hundred colleagues.
How many places have you experienced that you will never forget; how many of the people you have met have haunted you?
A few years ago, I came to Jingshi from Qilu.
Twenty-six years, what a long time. After graduating from university, he took a long-distance bus from Jinan to Binzhou for a day before entering beizhen city. Driving through the eighth and seventh roads of the Bohai Sea, in a trance, I walked through Jinan's Lishan Road and Shanshi East Road. From staying in school to a few final decisions to suddenly changing directions, the balloon that is full of pride cannot withstand the prick of a needle. It all came to naught! It was then that the tears quietly dimmed their eyes. In the twilight, under the sparse willow trees on the side of the road, people who have eaten dinner leisurely shake the fan and gossip, or push the stroller, lovingly guarding the baby's childhood. At that time, I thought to myself: How could they be willing to stay here for the rest of their lives?
If it were not for a recruitment notice for the whole country, I would have spent the rest of my life in Qidi.
15 years on the banks of the Yellow River in Binzhou, 11 years on the coast of Yantai. Tens of thousands of people who know; thousands of people who have dealt with each other; dozens of people who communicate closely; and how many people who know the heart? My Shandong brother.
And the beautiful youth is sprinkled on that land; the figure of growth, trekking on that land; tears, sweat, blood, drops of water, soaked in that land. The land that has been loved, hated, and looked forward to leaving and is full of reluctance.
His childhood was spent in the small village of Xiapu in Fujian Province. Simple rural wind, warm affection, long sky quiet beauty, the earth is verdant, the rain is pouring, the stream is babbling, the cattle and sheep are quiet, the birds are singing, he and the world will look at each other, and the wind in the heart will be peaceful. At the age of 20, he entered the provincial city with great vigor, and the Department of Architecture of Fuzhou University played to him the melody of stone and tile, light and shadow, structure and artistic conception; and then stepped into the quiet Tsinghua Garden, where the light of classical beauty of books, paintings and printing illuminated his life. He may often recall the time when the first poetry collection "Sunshine Qingqing" was published, and the life of his twenties was full of sunshine; he would also look back at the time when the group poem "Sailor" won the Campus Poet Award of the National New Poetry Grand Prix, how green the days were; he would not forget the day when he and the old poet Cai Qijiao jointly initiated the establishment of the Fujian Poetry Recitation Association, the young vice president and secretary general's youthful face, so vivid; of course, he remembered the 28-day journey from Fuzhou to Beijing by bicycle, in the wind, in the rain, in the sun... How can we forget the scene of the 27th Youth Poetry Conference, the excitement, the grace, the fragrance of the poem.
Life is full of accidents, and life is not a big accident.
In 2013, our lives intersected.
Lu Xun Literature College, next to the courtyard plaque with red characters on a white background, one is as strong as Qilu Tasong, and the other is quiet like the new rong in southern Fujian.
Lu Yuan, the far side of the young writer's heart.
The road to Luyuan is not smooth.
How could it have occurred that a middle-aged literary man who seemed to have been far away from literature for a long time, after trekking for more than twenty years, encountered the opportunity to return to literature. With a broad vision and a broad mind, the China Writers Association chose the least optimistic one among the many famous writers, critics and editors who came to him, and since then his career has been closely linked to serving Chinese writers.
Countless predecessors have worked here, countless famous artists have grown up here, and countless rookies have been born here. From Ding Ling and Zhang Tianyi, to He Jingzhi and Lei Shuyan, generations of literary masters and educational predecessors, the blue wisps of the Yanlu Road, to open up one home after another in the Drum Tower, in Balizhuang, and in the Peony Residence, and to build the majestic material and spiritual edifice of Luyuan.
Guo Moruo, Zhou Yang, Mao Dun, Ye Shengtao, Lao She, Cao Yu, Ai Qing, Zhao Shuli, Feng Xuefeng, Liu Qing... One by one, everyone flashed up to the podium of Lu Yuan.
Ma Feng, Deng Youmei, Jiang Zilong, Wang Anyi, He Jianming, Mo Yan, Yu Hua, Liu Zhenyun, Chi Zijian, Mai Jia... Contemporary literature departs from here to greet the dawn of the spray.
For this reason, it is crowned as the cradle of writers and the temple of literature.
A person who studies literature can integrate his career, career and life into one, who says that it is not the luck and happiness of life, the favor and favor of fate?
All the young and middle-aged writers who went to Luyuan for study have engraved many hard memories.
Yearning, signing up, queuing, waiting, waiting, waiting... One issue, one after another, another... One year, one year, three years... Some of their hair was white, and they could not knock on the door of Lu Yuan.
In May 2013, 49 young and middle-aged writers stood out and trekked thousands of mountains and rivers from all provinces and cities, industries and ethnic groups across the country to the long-awaited Luyuan Peony Yaoju Campus, a quiet and idle garden, a pure land in the red dust, and a garden in the downtown area.
Undistracted immersion, immersion in the comfort of swimming, such as the heart of the heart, and the heart of action and thought...
The splash of thought and thought, the dialogue between poetry and poetry, the handshake between China and the outside, the integration of ancient and modern...
Every night, every little window, a keyboard, a screen, a mood, a silhouette...
In that silhouette was a poet from Fujian.
Gentle, warm, gentle Zhang happiness.
Down-to-earth, simple and true Zhang Happiness.
Life and poetry merge into the sea of Zhang Happiness.
Reading Zhang Happiness is like reading the sea, reading life, reading life, and reading the world.
"How many terrifying waves in the conch are rolling and rolling", "It's the whimpering and crying of a whole sea", "Love is the quiet water surface after the ship sinks", "The laughter of my bookshelf full of waves", "A drop of water turns around and feels a pile of salt", "If I become a slow coral", "The vicissitudes I have experienced have all forgotten me", "I mention the surging of the whole sea", "I detonate the light and sound with fishing fire in the black afternoon"...
There's witchcraft there. In the dark hours before dawn, modern people's sense of loneliness, anxiety, hardship, fear, and hopelessness twists and struggles in the sea.
There is divinity there. Human beings' pursuit of light, beauty, and the future hovers, surges, and rises in waves...
There's poetry there. The magical primitive imagination is surging and the strange feeling is stretching, the spiritual mind is flashing... The indescribable expression makes the human body taste the excitement of the soul, the growth of the human spirit, and the mystery and essence of the world.
There was a poet riding on a wave, covered in gold and streaked with the stripes of the sea.
At this moment, I met him again in the poem.
I saw the path I had taken, the people I had seen, the things I had passed.
I saw the life of that teenager, the magnificent life.
I see the peace and the odd, the less and the more, the bend and the straight, the cause and effect, the accident and the inevitable.
I saw one and one, one and thousands —
The whole world.
This article is the preface to Zhang's collection of happy poems "Faintly Seeing the Trembling of the Sea"
Li Yiming, male, born in November 1965, a native of Boxing, Shandong, doctor of literature, professor, is currently the director of the General Office of the China Writers Association. He is a member of the China Writers Association, the vice president of the Chinese Biographical Literature Society, and the former vice president and executive vice president of the Lu Xun Literature College of the Chinese Writers Association.