Tennyson said: "Dreams can become reality as long as they last. Don't we just live in our dreams? When I read this sentence, I thought of the female poet named Yu Xiuhua, and in the vague anticipation, I seriously read her masterpiece "Moonlight Falls on My Left Hand".
The Path of the Poets
What is poetry? How to write poetry? Yu Xiuhua replied with a self-introduction: "I never thought about what poetry should be written or how to write it. When I am anxious about my personal life, I don't care about the country, I care about humanity. When I write about poetry at some point, it must be that they touch me, warm me, or make me really sad and worried. "It's about poetry, the most simple and authentic answer I've ever seen, and I believe that what she says is true, and her poetry takes place in any real scene of life that touches her."
I was once moved by such a scene. "One afternoon, Yu Xiuhua, who was carrying a bamboo basket across the ditch, accidentally fell into the ditch, and along with her, there was a sickle, shoes and a white silk scarf." What are white silk scarves used for? She was born with cerebral palsy caused by a doctor's mistake, and she had physical difficulties on the side, but she was a peasant woman who had to work. Afraid of hurting the hand, carry it on the body for ten years, and carry it on the body for spare bandage at any time. Such a traumatic scene of life was written by her into a small poem, and the name of the poem was called: "Afternoon, fell down." It was later found in her poems that she often wrestled because of her lameness. The little poem in my pen is actually a woman, facing all kinds of confessions of real life, in which there is joy, there is vulnerability, there is despair, and there is a new life!
A dog named Little Witch
On weekdays, Yu Xiuhua, because of physical reasons, can only do some light farm work, and the rest of the time will raise some rabbits to subsidize the family. In addition to the rabbit, there is also a dog that has a cute name: little witch.
Little witches are used as companions, sometimes like little guards to give people a sense of security. The little witch followed her when she went out. Sometimes, of course, it was she who followed it. When eating, she would gently call out to the little witch and throw it a few pieces of meat. When she fell, the little witch wagged her tail; when her hand was injured, the little witch licked her wound; when she was beaten, the little witch kept wagging her tail... At this time, the little witch was emotional. I think Xiao Wu must be too young and often beaten, so he doesn't dare to go up and bite him, in case he is killed, who will accompany her?
The poet Yu Xiuhua is reading a poem
The first time I heard Yu Xiuhua's voice was in Lu Yu's interview program. Dressed plainly that day, she slowly walked to the center of the stage with a book in her hand and began to read poetry, which was different from what she expected, and her voice was full of trembling and as if she had tried her best. Feeling her breath across the screen, looking at her picture, for a moment, I really felt that my former self had abused the word "beautiful", and she even made the sound she made to make people feel the beauty from the essence of life, and such beauty was difficult to find elsewhere or later in her own.
The title of the poem I read is "Firewood in the Field": To live a good life, one person is enough. I took off my shoes and fell in love with my little feet. They have traveled thousands of miles in the human world, and they are still a small appearance, which shelters bad weather one after another. I should have had one, hermit heart. As soon as the human affair is lost, there are clear bones. Whether there is a noble soul or not, I am not concerned. The wheat in the field is growing well, and the magpies land on the trees one moment and on the ground the next. It sounds like there is a Zen fun walking between the lines.
In just three years, she published three poetry collections, becoming the best-selling poet in Chinese poetry collections in 20 years; she was selected as one of the "Powerful Women of 2017" by the New York Times; her documentary "The Shaky World" won an award at the 29th Amsterdam International Documentary Film Festival; and her poem "I Love You" was composed by folk singer Zhong Lifeng.
If there is a next life, what kind of person would you want to be? Her answer was: If I can really choose, I hope I am just a normal person, if I really want to be disabled, I hope not cerebral palsy. Otherwise, cerebral palsy is not good. This is a quick question and answer question, and the time to post and answer is no more than one minute.
About love
"I'm the only one, not!" In this little poem she wrote: Many nights, I have come this way: tearing flowers apart — I doubt my love, and every time it shatters people to pieces. I suspected my innate defect: this destroyed nature, and in any case, I could not symmetrically match him. I believe that he and others are in love, only me, not me.
How many forks in the road we have walked, in the miserable cold of this late autumn, we have met by chance. I'm ready for the charcoal fire, the wine, the simple days and the son and half daughter you want.
There are only two voices in my late night, the roar of the unjust ghost, and the sad cry of Yu Xiuhua. There were only two men I loved, one gone and one not coming. There are two rays of light in my morning, one according to my writing, and one to bathe me.
About marriage
How I like to be alone. I like to be alone by the river at dusk and wash away the scars on my body. What I can't do in this life, I want to write on the epitaph, let me leave, give me freedom.
When my heart is pounding with grief, I take a big bite to eat. This kind of show-off, only the wind knows.
The train in my body never misaligned, so heavy snow, storms, mudslides and absurdities were allowed.
The guests were still in the distance, while the dew was wobbly, on the verge of falling. It was anxious to spit out something, anxious to sell the night light that had been stolen last night.
"But I thank those who have hurt me so much, and I thank myself: for every encounter with the same innocence."
Some wrinkles are satisfactory: I always suppress love and pain in the deepest nights. Rough living: occasionally playful, occasionally swearing.
For me, it is only when I write poetry that I am complete, quiet, and happy. Even though there is no clean place where I am polluted by this society, and back to poetry, I am clean again. Poetry has been cleaning me, compassion for me. Poetry has always been with me, and when I think about it, it doesn't reject me.
Poetry is a crutch for me to walk on earth.
Poetry must be a display of human nature, beautiful or ugly.
Everyone will be abandoned by the years, and we are all the same. Whether ordinary people or celebrities!