Except for Yu Xiuhua, most of China's current poetry scene is garbage.
Of course, "Sleeping with You Through Most of China" is a bit coquettish, but if you don't have the strength, can you stand tall instead of a gust of wind? Of course, it's a bit of a gimmick to label cerebral palsy, but if you don't have talent, can you be deeply loved by the people, not a hated one?
Nowadays, most people in the poetry world are playing poetry, either for fame or for profit or for self-entertainment, how many people really write with their hearts? How many can really reveal their hearts? How many can really cry blood and tears?
Literature is not a place for grandstanding, poetry is not a stage for praising each other, and art is a life-like existence, not a tool for entertainment. Except for the narcissist and the sage egg, who has a few pounds and a few taels who is not clear? Poetry is talented, and poets are self-styled. There are people who call themselves poets but can't be poets, and there are people who don't want to be poets but are poems everywhere.
Is Yu Xiuhua a poet? Maybe not. The poems she writes are branch essays, chicken soup for the soul, and obscene jokes, you can say whatever you want about her, because she doesn't openly proclaim that she is a poet, and we dare to openly shout that we are poets after drinking a few cups of cat urine and scattering a few hoof prints on the Internet, are we ashamed?
What kind of cow is bull? Look down on this and look down on that all day long, all day long, coaxing and pulling people to like and find people to comment, saying what contest awards, what poetry collections are published, the key is that there are a few people watching your thing seriously - everything is a floating cloud, everything is self-deception, everything is just a trick to fool one's vanity. Instead of wasting time and energy on these useless appearances, it is better to calm down and read a book, whether it is literature, history or philosophy, will be of great benefit to your writing. The funniest ones who are called famous poets, in fact, everyone doesn't recognize any of them, it's just a wave in a small circle. Give up those so-called utilitarian benefits, it is like a sand sculpture that will collapse at the touch of a button! Being an honest person and writing poetry in a down-to-earth manner is the king's way.
Yu Xiuhua may not be able to write poetry, but her life itself is poetry, Yu Xiuhua may not meet your aesthetics, but she meets the aesthetics of most people, and this is enough. Now Yu Xiuhua and her poems have gone international, and we are still cocooning ourselves, fighting in the nest. You may not believe it, but the first poet in China who is most likely to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in the future may be Yu Xiuhua - I am optimistic about Yu Xiuhua.
Attached: Excerpts from Yu Xiuhua's on-site reading poems in London:
1，A Pool of Water ,（一潭水）
It's my favorite moment: it's darker and the night is still light
My favorite moment: dusk darkens, night still young
My soul is so clear that it rolls on the leaves
My soul so clear, tumbling on a leaf
One light and one shadow, I live so naked, the shadow can be longer
A lamp and shadow: I live naked, my shadow
stretches itself
Leave a portion for the shadows
a segment kept to feed its silhouette
Indeed, water came from all sides and scattered in all directions
Water surges from everywhere and disperses everywhere
I swayed a little in the water
Softly I sway in water
Pick the shiny part of the word on the tip of the grass
Cream off the parts with carry luminous words onto the tips of grass
I like to be besieged by poetry and work hard to find a way out
I like to be besieged by verses, to find a way out by working my heart out
I am loved by something, and I will never give up
Something loves me, it never leaves me
However, it does not flow
Yet it can’t flow
You won't find the peak of a mountain in a song
or find a summit in a song
Our flock is still small, and its cry is soft. We are away from the fruits of summer
Our goats are young, their bleating soft. We are A hundred steps
There are still 100 steps away
away from summer fruits
We are alive and there will always be many such moments
In our lives, there will be many moments such as these
See the parts you've been ignoring
to see parts we ignore in ourselves
2，Early Autumn（初秋了）
When the rice is ripe, autumn only rises
When the rice ripens, that's when autumn winds begin
The love for you turns into a black planet
My love for you spirals into a black planet
In the depths of the universe, I can't complete a blast
Deep in the cosmos, I can't ignite a single explosion
How weary I am: loving and being loved have become a deep ravine
How tired I am: to love and to be loved have become deep chasms,
My eyes are two graves
My eyes are two tombs
A volcano buried with lust, a dead sea buried with despair
One buries a volcano of passion, the other a Dead Sea of despair
But I want to live, like a stillborn baby
Yet I must live, as if stillborn within the womb
Occupy the autumn hills like red persimmons
Like red persimmons crowning autumn's hills
When you pass by, they will all fall on your head
Waiting for you to pass by, to drop on your head
You can't tell where you came from, you entered my body
You can’t tell where you came from., to enter my body
You have to pass over the cliffs
You’ll have to pass by the cliff's edge.
Rippling on the branches is last night's moon, last year's moon
Swinging on the branches is last night's moon, last year's moon
The moon of reincarnation
The reincarnated moon
I coerce you to roll down with me
I force you to tumble down with me,
From the threshing floor, from the hillside, from the flames
From the threshing ground, from the hillside, from flames
I want us to burn together in a blur
I want us to burn and blur together
Let gender be the evidence of love
Let sex incriminate us of love
Hit your fist on the edge of life to catch it
Only by slamming our fists against life's sharp edge, can we catch
Mountains full of fallen leaves
The fallen leaves covering the mountains.
All 6 volumes of Yu Xiuhua's poetry collection A book of modern and contemporary literature in the world that rejoices and shakes in the world for no reason ¥274.8 Buy
Author: Hua Ling, formerly known as Liang Chenghao, male, Han nationality, born in 1974, from Wolong District, Nanyang City, Henan Province. He is a contemporary Chinese avant-garde poet, a cutting-edge writer, and a columnist of the Reading Sleep Poetry Society. He is now a local village doctor. The first collection of poems, Love Songs and Lamentations, was successfully published in Henan Zhongzhou Ancient Books Publishing House in April 2015, and won the silver medal of the third New Poet Award held by the Chinese Poetry Society in Beijing in June of that year, and the bronze medal of the second Red Sorghum PEN Club in Qingdao in August. The second collection of poems, "Beauty Snake", is also being planned for publication.