The famous poet Li Ying died at 3:36 a.m. on March 28 at the age of 93.
Li Ying was born on December 8, 1926 in Jinzhou, Liaoning, Fengrun, Hebei. In 1943, he began to practice writing, and the poems he wrote were included in the collection of poems "ShichengDi Qingmiao" that he co-edited with his classmates in 1944. In 1945, he was admitted to the department of Chinese of Peking University, and engaged in the progressive student movement while studying. In 1949, he joined the Chinese People's Liberation Army, went south with the army, and served as a reporter for the general branch of the Xinhua News Agency. At the end of 1950, he returned to Beijing, participated in the War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea, and then worked in the General Political Department of the People's Liberation Army, and in 1955 he became an editor of the People's Liberation Army Literature and Art Publishing House, successively serving as deputy editor-in-chief, editor-in-chief, president, and minister of the General Political And Cultural Department.
Associated with poetry
Someone once asked Mr. Li Ying for an inscription, and he wrote such a sentence: "Light poetry with the fire in your heart, and illuminate life with poetry." In fact, it was also his own motto. He said, "I am in awe of poetry, life nourishes me, and I cannot but write it down." ”
In Li Ying's view, writing poetry is always the most sacred thing, it is the reproduction of character and soul, and it is a ritual that people should fear.
Li Ying's reverence for poetry originated from the age of sixteen or seventeen. He said that he had experienced different social stages and different life circumstances in his life, and writing poetry was a heartfelt record impulse to the external world. At the beginning of 1949, he graduated from college, followed the army south to do military reporting, and began his military career. The long military life allows Li Ying to integrate the sound of Jinge into the delicate and fresh poetic style. He is good at using a bright image to pin his majestic thoughts on, and highlighting the strength of his strong thoughts with a gentle lyricism. Therefore, Li Ying is considered to be one of the important representatives of contemporary military poetry. In this regard, Li Ying said: "Because I have written a large number of poems on the theme of military service, and I have been working in the army for a long time, it is natural to call me a 'military poet'. It's a glorious title. But in the new era, my writing horizons have broadened, and many works have little to do with military life. If you look at the total number of poems I have written, the poems of the army content account for only about one-third. Indeed, in addition to military poetry, he also wrote a large number of works on western themes and international themes after the new period, and later turned to the contemplation of life.
Writing inspiration that grows from the earth
Li Ying rarely expresses personal small pains and small sentimentalities in poetry, but tries to integrate into the broad social content. In order to gain a deep understanding of the times and society, Li Ying used her own feet to measure the land of the motherland. Li Ying said that in his early years, he had systematically read the Tang Dynasty's border poems and was full of yearning for the frontier areas. Since then, he has successively gone deep into many provinces in the western region, made a large number of interview notes, and written a series of large groups of poems.
"I always feel that some of the issues discussed in the literary and art circles seem to be problems that should not exist. For example, 'Does literature and art reflect life?' Of course, to reflect life, literature does not reflect life, so what else is written? Some of the current poetry is divorced from life, from the masses. Li Ying said, "I have always been obsessed with directly participating in social life. I am always humble and in awe of the fiery life and the vastness of the world, because I know that my works come from them and are their gifts. The observation, understanding, and intuition of social life are integrated into the soul, and after the brewing of art, poetry will flow out of the veins, with temperature, breath, personality, and pain. "Poets should have a strong sense of responsibility and mission, I never take a nap, do not smoke, do not drink, do not play chess, do not fish. I spent all my time reading and thinking, thinking about poetry all my life, always vigilant against the inertia of thinking. Now it's time for me to fall like a leaf, to fall calmly, without leaving more regrets and regrets.
Li Ying said that poets should have a strong sense of responsibility and mission, cultivate people's sentiments through poetry writing, and lead people upwards. Therefore, the poet must feel and express those things that have eternal value from his own time and life: the affirmation of truth, the promotion of goodness, and the pursuit of beauty. Especially in today's increasingly rich material life, poets should consciously adhere to the noble ideals of poetry and the spirit of poetry, abide by the sacred character of poetry, and make their poetry writing beneficial to improving people's spiritual realm.
"The poet must be a man who can withstand loneliness, a man who indulges in spiritual exploration and is willing to settle down in loneliness." Li Ying said that current poets should not be impetuous, but should sink their hearts into writing and write more excellent works. At the same time, he believes that poetry should be diversified. Among the old, middle-aged and young poets, between poets, there are some different understandings and views, it is very normal, we should strengthen communication with an open and inclusive mind, so that different understandings, opinions, and different styles of poetry are respected.
In a letter to a friend, Li Ying said: "I do not quite obey the wash of time, and I always maintain my own piece of childlike heart. ”
The poet will grow old, but the poet will not. Poetry and poetry will be an eternal healing and warm light in the vicissitudes of time.
Li Ying's poems:
Portrait of mother
On the wall
It's been hanging for thirty years
Between looking up and bowing down
It's all pain
She's younger than me
She is my mother
Thirty years has been an unknown number of times
Mother with rough hands
Stroke my cheek
Tilt your head to look at me
Fat? Skinny
When I confide in her
The bitterness and grievance buried in the bottom of the heart
She stopped calling my nipple names
Only solemnly stroked my white hair
And use the sleeve of her coat after holding the chai
Wipe the teardrops I have suffocated on my beard
Murmur softly
Don't cry, don't cry
Like when I was a kid
Only my mother could feel the hidden pain in my heart
Only my mother could hear my heart beating and crying
I heard the walls exploding
One Night in the Highlands
Carry a pocket of barley
Trekking day after day
Always on the same monotonous wasteland
When the wind fills the cracks of our bones with gravel
The sun stretches the figure under your feet
Cloud fled off the horizon in panic
The lead-like night fell violently
In front, like a nest of wild bees and
Raised earth stacks of ancient tomb groups
It was where we stayed
Frenziedly whipping prayer flags
It was our neighbor
It is the dwelling place of the gods
Livid on the surface of the dried cowhide
Only the howling wind
Kept whipping with a whip
Suspended in 4,800 meters in mid-air
Gravel, moraine and dry hood
Then it clutched the continental shelf tightly
Shake it desperately
Between the crevices of its breathing
You can hear it
The sound of rocky plates rubbing
The sound of fire
The sound of dripping water at the headwaters of a river
The sound of a hungry snow leopard calling
Maybe there's also the scream of the stars escaping
Life is trembling
This Liu, the big crow that flies obliquely during the day
Lizards that grow up secretly in pain as well
The big fly desperately sucking the blood beads on the beast's bones
Where are they hiding
But here it is
A life more stubborn than death
It is a tall weed lying on the ground
It is the seed of a weed
It is the root of the seed
Is the root of the belief
Like a needle, to the light of metal
Looking at the world harshly
When sloping on the soil wall
The ghee lamp goes out
The huts jolt on the tip of the choppy waves
Closing my eyes, I heard my own heartbeat