--Review of Xu Hui's Twenty-Four Festival Poems
Tonghe Shui
Xu Hui made her mark on the Jiangsu literary scene seventeen years ago, publishing a large number of literary works. Subsequently silent for fourteen years, she made a comeback in 2015 in a flourishing manner, publishing many poems and reviews. In a short period of time, he attracted the attention of the literary world. More than ten paper media and online platforms, such as China Forum, Jiangsu Writers, Lianyungang Literature, etc., have recommended him grandly. His rich life experience, full of humanistic feelings and deep cultural heritage make his poems full of tension and connotation. His lyric poems, especially love poems, are especially outstanding, and he has been recognized as the "Prince of Love Poems", "Cang Yangjiazuo in the world", and "a gifted critic" by people in the circle. Therefore, when reading Xu Hui's poems, one will often be infected and saturated by his emotions. His newly created twenty-four seasonal poems are sprawling and meteorological.
I get up in my clothes / with the last water of winter / to wash away the tiredness left on my face / the new seasons have begun again / with or without care / I have to use a smile / to take care of my dwindling spring ("The Beginning of Spring"). Spring is the key to a year's success, and with the coming of spring, everything is revitalized. And the poet's weariness comes from the earthly world, from his perception and touch of this overgrown human world. The fast-developing society dazzles and confuses people, or is like walking on thin ice for some people. In these painful words, I seem to see how a person full of passion and love is swallowed up by the world and stranded a little. Less and less spring, but also to the life of a chant three sighs, to the relentless years of the stay too breath. But, the poet is optimistic, he faces the spring world with a smile and candor.
The poet's language is simple, without the gorgeous rhetoric, without the mystery of the esoteric, a poetic love splashed to spring, summer, fall and winter of every season. The famous poet, Mr. Jianming, said that poets should not pretend to be ghosts. In my opinion, Jianming's point of view is extremely reasonable. Poets should write honestly, express your life with true feelings, and embrace the whole world with true love. Just like an ascetic, three steps and a kneeling pilgrimage to the holy land of the heart. In the bleak wind and bitter rain, not afraid of the future of the bumpy road, the future of the remote, but the heart of compassion and great love. Regardless of life and death, the poet is in favor, compassion for the world, the heart of the living. Xu Hui writes in her poem "Qingming": Fifteen years have passed / My grief is like the grass on the grave / It grows more and more / I have to pull it up / And then put new soil on it / Communicate with you in the world of the living / Heaven's destiny is near / I still don't know if the rain in the world of the living / Will it dampen the window panes of you all. Fifteen years, a "up" word can not help but make me sigh for a while, life has how many fifteen years ah. Fifteen years of time fell on the grass of the people, humble and prostrate to live. Fifteen years, the poet in the end experienced what kind of frustration, so sad as the grave on the luxuriant weeds. The poet lives in the Yang world, but stubbornly wants to communicate with the Yang world. It is not difficult to guess that the poet's heart is already dead, and the only thing alive is his body. His heart to communicate with the yang world is in fact a dialog between life and death. "The fate of the near", the human life from the birth of the mother body will step by step to the dead, whether you are a millionaire, or a beggar on the street, and so on. Joy, anger, sadness and happiness with a lifetime. The poet in the Qingming Festival rainy atmosphere, looking at the shadow of self-pity. He misses the deceased more than anything else, and he doesn't want the earthly rain to wet their window panes. But what can the poet do? He cannot stop this flurry of rain, including his own mesmerized eyes. "I'll seize the time to visit friends and relatives/ Enjoy the sunshine/ Write off what the world owes me/ What I owe the world/ Strive to pay it back with interest/ Look back on the Naiho Bridge/ Everywhere is clean and clear." Everywhere highlights the poet's great love and cleanliness, personality charm. The text is like a person, used in Xu Hui's body appropriately.
The poet walked around the square and saw many people dancing. The people dancing in the haze of the night, as if they have never had troubles and sorrows, as if they live a very free and happy. The poet looked at their dance, thought of his own no longer young, can not help but have seven points of emotion and eight points of sadness. In his disappointment in life, he used to drink to dispel his sorrows, although often introspective, but in the end could not overcome their own demons. Year after year, letting his talent pass away, he was hidden in the vanity of the world. "Life is only beginning at fifty / Such dominance / First of all, I need my body to support it / I am already in pain all over my body" ("Summer Solstice"), which shows that the poet's pain and discomfort do not come from the physical body, but from the spiritual level. In fact, the poet is not referring to himself, but to all beings, a kind of ultimate humanistic care. The poet is a saint, a prophet, a spokesman for the times. The poet is the closest to the divine. The famous critic Lv Jin wrote in the article "Poets should act as the trumpeter of the times" that "Poetry is nothing but expressing two kinds of care: life care and social care, and the two kinds of care are two kinds of endorsement", and that "many chapters written about life care start from the poet's real life experience at that time, and break through the similar moods of millions of people at that time. of the similar moods of millions of people at the same time." Xu Hui stands on a high place, releasing the light of her heart with Buddhist philosophies. "I am like a golden cicada that has just shed its shell / Gasping is the first chirp after exhaustion / My friends say it is pleasant to the ear / I smile" ("Little Summer"), the poet's keen observation is always contrary to common sense and unexpected. "What is the poet laughing at? There must be an ambush in the smile. Maybe it's a knife, maybe it's hail. This knife is a scalpel, never a butcher's knife; this hail, from heaven, straight to the Cangshan Erhai. The poet's smile is so cold and cool. He denied the heavenly music of nature, the melodious cicadas. The poet feels that the clamor of the cicadas is a mockery of mankind, even a slander. The poet could not extricate himself from the mundane world, whose soot and dust prevented one from breathing properly from time to time. However, they are used to it, used to go against the grain, used to go hither and thither, used to swallow their anger, used to the human cloud. Being in the mud, the poet set aside the confinement of the circumference, probed into the blue sky, holding up the fragrance of the lotus, so it was full of the pool of fragrance. "Listening to the sound of the sky / as facing the lotus" "from one lotus to another / full of lotus clarifies my piety" ("Little Summer"), a lotus is a dojo. The poet sits in meditation, composing the scriptures with a devotional heart and a superb literary style.
A few years later, we will all be far away from this world of disturbance. The snow flies, the sutra Yang Gothic, life and death can not be avoided. Winter is coming, "After fifteen years/my spring is like a monument/surrounded by weeds that grow again in the spring breeze" ("The Great Cold"). At that time, the coldness of the world and the warmth of human feelings could no longer be perceived. Year after year, year after year, the weeds withered and flourished in a cycle, thus showing the world that there is still a little bit of vitality here.
Do away with the murmur of the world, embracing poetry, in the hometown and foreign land, the poet is so pure. If you love, please love y, because the hometown and childhood is getting farther and farther away, those remnants of memory may one day be cleared, what you take to the future generations to look forward to? The poet Xu Hui, with one foot on the homeland and the other on a foreign land, sings about the gale and murmurs about the South. Poetry is far away, far away is the hometown and childhood.
I expect, the poet in the years to come, another success.
2017-9-14 in Hangzhou -------------------------