Related links: Poetry World 丨 Liang Ping: I take a whole river to pay tribute to you, a song of three thousand miles of waves
Closer to the sky is Liang Ping's poetic heart
Text/Ichikawa
Where the sky is brighter, the air will also be filled with meaningful creative new forms, this new form allows each word and sentence to outline the overall poetic schema with full force, the past tense of history and the present tense squeeze out the opposite metaphor, a new force of personal experience and reading experience that grows interactively becomes the core of Liang Ping's poetry, he pushes away the brighter sky and puts in more light feathers.
He explains a thick sense of history with a Chinese currentity, "the archives of history are sealed, / the whirlwind of horses, / the years that swept through Eurasia, / written into the family tree,...... Gently stroke its mane, / The wind rolls the edges, / Time to lie down on the ground. This makes the individual poetic existence more and more continuous, and at the same time, the relationship between time and man is once again integrated, a sense of responsibility from the small to the large, he derives the daily philosophy from the ordinary, "the water in the eyes does not flow, / Not tears." The lakes, rivers and oceans of the earth, / no catharsis, no flooding, nor tears. The eye socket is the riverbed of water, which cannot be measured, / The narrowness of the world and the vastness of life, / The view is as far as the eye can see.".
With a deeper and thicker sense of responsibility, the burst of emotions is placed in the center of history and the individual, and such ultimate care is not only stranded in front of the person, but the person who pushes the sense of heaviness between heaven and earth to describe. This is Liang Ping's poetry's overall grasp of the known world, gentle and melodious emotions running through the text, light and delicate beats, and from time to time the charm of the work is introduced into a good grasp of intersubjectivity.
In a distant dream perception and light perception, he explained: "The Spring and Autumn period with Bo Ya is enough to disintegrate the class, / All strangeness and estrangement drift with the wind." ”
The power in the words and sentences is short and concise, and sometimes there is a wind sound from which the momentum is fierce, but it is not tactful, and it also tastes the fine water and clear flow, polishes the delicate places to shine, and maintains a natural sense of frustration at the rough places, which is a fixed energy retained in Liang Ping's works.
He lifts a flowing prose poetic flame above his neck, and the fire is about to burst out from the top of the mountain to the bottom of the mountain, a fragmented and fluid kinetic energy, which is actively stirred back and forth in each verse. "Brother Liang in the tomb site remained silent, / The grass in front of the tomb was green, and there were faintly clothes fluttering, / There were no pairs. The wind was played by the violin concerto into a lonely rain, / Over the eyes of a butterfly, an old dragon bell, / has not been able to flap its wings. "This jumping rhythm makes the deconstruction of the text more flexible and full, and constructs a flow-layer model of the language in both tenses."
He participates in the vitality of language in personal history and reading history, mixing and gluing processes to form new variables and dimensions, this anti-instrumental thinking, with a rebellious part, but also opens up a new paradigm of leapfrogging, and this basic kinetic energy constitutes a complete body in his poetry.
Attached: Liang Ping's poetry works
I'll take a whole river and honor you
Zi Period Brother, a comma of Han Shui,
Two full moons are spaced in Caidian.
Ears ambushed by the clear glow, with mountains and flowing water,
meet. Yu Boya came as promised.
The fluttering garments have grown into vast reeds,
Every beam of miserable whiteness in the moonlight,
They are all soul-breaking Yaoqin.
Walking in front of the grave, one step is a thousand years,
The reeds twitch, the broken strings of the teeth,
Slap me in the face.
Spring and Autumn with Bo Ya,
Fingers are enough to disintegrate the class,
All the strangeness and estrangement drifted away with the wind.
Brother Zi, I will take a whole river to honor you,
A song of three thousand miles of waves,
Become a singing singing.
Liang Zhu
Liang Shanbo, with Zhu Yingtai, who dressed as a man,
After eighteen miles of sending each other, the butterflies were transformed.
My family was the first to be with Yingtai, that is, brothers,
Yingtai was careful and did not read it.
Their business, from the gossip of the world,
Pen into black and white paper,
No, it's not.
Brother Liang's adolescence is not ambiguous,
Yingtai behaved decently and was innocent.
Brothers and brothers, than between men and women,
There is also a feeling that is unbreakable.
I want to call Yingtai sister-in-law, or younger sister,
Not really. Ningbo Yinzhou a lot of soft language,
All said yes, said the same as the real thing.
Brother Liang in the tomb site remained silent,
In front of the tomb, the grass is green, and the clothes are faintly fluttering,
There are no pairs.
The wind is played by the violin concerto into a lonely rain,
Over a butterfly, an old dragon clock,
I can't flap my wings anymore.
Companion with a Mongolian horse
Lone smoke on the prairie,
Rising from the back of dusk, the campfire withered,
The earliest heroes all had wild habits.
The wind of the horseshoe was wrapped in my arms,
The sunset hangs on the lips, stretching the Humai that is narrating,
The weeds fell down, and I stood up,
With a Mongolian horse counting the stars in the sky,
One is cleaner than the last.
It is not easy to stay away from glory,
The archives of history are sealed, the whirlwind of horses,
Sweeping through the years of Eurasia, written into the family tree,
It doesn't matter if the Honor Roll has a name or not.
Chifeng, Horqin, Hulunbuir,
In the grass, I am also anonymous,
The road I walked and the traces left by the horse's hooves,
There is no connection, only wildness makes me rejoice.
The Mongolian horse is old,
There is a tear in the eye that cannot fall,
Gently stroking its mane, the wind swept the edges,
Time lies on the ground.
Liang Ping, poet and editor. He is the author of 16 kinds of poetry collections, prose essays, and poetry criticism collections. I've been a lot of judges and won some awards. He has edited "Red Rock" and "Stars", and is still editing "Young Writers" and "Caotang", and lives in Chengdu.
Yichuan, a well-known poetry critic and poet, whose works have appeared in newspapers and poetry anthologies such as "Stars", "Yangtze River Poetry Journal", "Poetry Tide", "Yalu River", "People's Liberation Army Daily", "People's Armed Police Alarm" and other newspapers and poetry anthologies.