Editor's note
"Poetry Collection Recommendation" is a new column jointly established by China Poetry Network and China Publishing Media Business Daily to regularly recommend newly published excellent poetry collections in China, with a poetry collection in each issue and published every Sunday. At the end of the year, the "Poetry Magazine" and the "China Publishing and Media Business Daily" will organize experts to conduct a strict review of the poetry collections recommended in this column, select the top ten poetry collections of the year, and release the "Annual Chinese Poetry List".
In this issue, we recommend the poetry collection of young poet Cao Yun "You Are More Specific than Time", which will be published by Nanjing Publishing House in May 2024. Welcome readers and friends to comment and share!
Introduction to the poetry collection ▍
"You are more specific than time" is a collection of poems by Cao Yun, a young poet born in the 90s, the whole book is divided into six series: "Hiding in Childhood", "Youth is a tired spinning top", "Loneliness is your long-term friend", "The person who steals poetry", "This world is not good or bad", "On the string of my hometown", a total of 235 poems, which completely tell the fragmented and insignificant life of a young man in the first 30 years.
Memories of childhood, the monologue of youth, the hard-working migrant workers and loneliness, the thoughts of the age of thirty, the passage of time, the facets of burying one's head in the world, the hometown that cannot be returned, the death of a loved one, and the birth of a child...... From a short life, it is believed that man is the riverbed of time, and time can only flow according to the river formed by each person's body, and those sparkling waters, occasionally flashing with reed flowers, white horses, riverboats, green mountains, aging, death, love, time, and fragments, also become a little wave, fleeting.
About the Author▍
Cao Yun, born in 1991, is a poet, writer, a native of Anqing, Anhui Province, a member of the Anhui Writers Association, and has published a collection of poems "The Man Who Stole Poetry" and "You Are More Specific Than Time". His works can be found in "Poetry Magazine", "Youth", "Poetry Harvest", "Youth Digest", "Yilin", etc.
"You are more concrete than time"
Selected Poems
That was a long time ago ▍
It was a long time ago After a nap, the sun would not set for a long time I guarded everything that was young and had nowhere to go All afternoon, all blue Empty, forever Long There were wild birds flying in the days The old pendulum clock was like a dream horse galloping, tireless Just back and forth, back and forth, back and forth The children embarked on a journey Falling into life, there is no way to go in and no way back Growing up, it is never going back
Lonely child ▍
There have been years when everything is taller than me, days, moonlight on the fence, there are also trying to lower the body, such as the sun, shortening down to become the sunset, but only short to the mountain, giving up halfway, such as parents, shortening to become a spoiler, but only short to the occasion, there is a busy backbone at home, I don't want to learn from them, so often squatting down alone and talking to shorter friends, sometimes it is grass, sometimes it is stone, more time, It was the ants that finally grew up a little later, and it still is, and I always worry that when they squat, there is no shorter existence than them
In that small village ▍
In that small village, the definition of the universe was no bigger than a mountain
A child, who captures the four seasons of the flow of leaves in spring, monsoon rain in summer, fruits in autumn and snow, and then for the stream, at the beginning of this age when everything is taller than childhood and shorter than life, can only fit these
Some of the living sights of itinerant peddlers, raised animals...... The god of incense, the mourning of neighbors...... At that time, it couldn't be fit
Just watching, you can only watch the faces of others, the days are bright and the days are gone, and the dialect is complicated for a lifetime, as if your eyes are blinking
Just escape from time ▍
I saw a flock of misty birds flying, thinking that time was on the run, on the side of the little youth, she put on the first lipstick, he hid the first cigarette, and polished a cold arrow in the day
Young people, time will soon catch up, and we are now on the run, and there are dangers on the way
So ▍
There is always a negative side to some things So the diploma looks like a clearance slip You pack everything up, but you can't clean up your youth After all, it's been a long time in the building, the sound, and the summer It's a cross-section of the river Time is tidy, and you're going to be a little farther away than your youth
The person who drove the car ▍
In ancient times, he was supposed to be a coachman, whose duty was to send the owner on a long journey or to deliver some goods, and when he was unhappy, the owner would whip him, and he could only whip the horse
In modern times, he is still at work, carrying me after work, I don't know each other, and the silence of each other in the world of hateful faces, have you looked at me like I look at you
In ancient times, I should have been a useless scholar when I was depressed and happy, when poetry was unhappy, when I was unhappy, life
Thirty Notes ▍
The sun sets in the west, the moon rises in the east, parting and meeting are all distant and untouchable things, I stand on this land, waiting for the master of fate, standing as solid as a tree, living not like a pool of water, shallow, and I don't know how many days it will take for the word life to be hastily taken from me
I like the way I look now ▍
One day, the pain in my body was all dead to the past experience, as if it had never happened that a man had done nothing, and had come to such a state that he did not dare to write about the mercilessness of the years, after all, in the good or bad parts, there was no favoritism, ordinary as a horse of obsolete linen, rubbing, pulping, some of the distinct parts faded one by one, and fell out of nowhere, in the twilight, I sat quietly and did not think about the past, just leaned against me
The Ballad of Time ▍
In time, a hard-working woman, but fate calls it a suffering woman, this is my extreme objection to human beings in the face of life, in essence, are labor, I don't want to feel guilty and falsely face the mother's identity, or any heavy, objectified, face-painted I will be extremely opposed to my mother, that is, my mother is not because of sorrow, not because of greatness
Such as a mountain ▍
The father's life has eaten half of the suffering of the history books, presumably, before his death, no one sang praises for him, and when the son talked about him, he could not do anything weighty except tears falling down gently, and he talked about his son as if he was talking about the empty half of history, which was full of achievements after those sufferings were swallowed
Buried in the world ▍
Heaven and earth, wind and horse, mustard grass Bodhisattva, the veins of the growth of all things are not far from a river, some turn mountains, some rain falls, some do not go anywhere, do nothing as if alive, just the green tendons of the living years, the mountains are uplifted, it is best not to climb to the top for fear that you will see the world too clearly on the lonely mountain, you say: The world is a lonely paradise, the madness of all beings
Letter from the years ▍
Will there be an answer to the question of why the messenger has never appeared, a cicada took the lead in speaking for summer, so frogs, flowing water, pedestrians, shallow footprints in the days, and suddenly remembered some things at that time, not suddenly, but mostly abruptly ended, memories are a kind of revival of old feelings, but unfortunately there is no life in the past rusty museum, I want to go out on the street, sit side by side with the season, a leaf, pat me in the wind is the letter of the years, after entering the symphony of time, I heard the footsteps of pedestrians
From stopping