望舒《我用残损的手掌》我用残损的手掌摸摸摸这广大的土地：这一角已变成灰烬，那一角只是血和泥；这一片湖该是我的家乡，(春春，堤上繁花如锦障，嫩柳枝折断有奇异的芬芳，)我触到荇藻和水的微凉；这长白山的雪峰冷到彻骨，这黄河的水夹 Mud and sand slipped out between the fingers; Jiangnan's paddy fields, so soft ...... now there is only pomelo; Lingnan's lychee flowers lonely and emaciated, the end of the yonder, I dipped in the South China Sea without the bitter water of the fishing boat ...... invisible palms swept over the rivers and mountains of no hatred, fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with Gloom and darkness, only that far away corner is still intact, warm, bright, solid and vigorous spring.
On that, I caressed it with my crippled palm, like the soft hair of a lover, the milk of a baby's hand. I transported all my strength in the palm of my hand to stick to it, and sent with love and all hope, because only there is the sun, is spring, will expel the darkness, and bring the sustenance, because only there we do not live like cattle, and die like ants....... There, the eternal China! This is a sincere poem written by the poet in 1942 in the dark and damp earthen prison of the Japanese invaders, expressing the poet's heartfelt concern and sincere love for the disaster motherland, but also expresses the yearning for the liberated areas under the leadership of the Chinese ****anufacturing party.
The first half of the poem writes that "I" use my "crippled palm" to fondle the vast land of the motherland under the ravages of the enemy's iron hooves: "This corner of the country has turned into ashes,/that corner of the country is just blood and mud! ". Then, the invisible palm of the poet touched his hometown, a blue lake, now "cool" lake water and the former "embankment prosperity such as brocade barriers" of the beautiful spring contrast, showing the poet on the enemy trampled on the homeland's incomparable indignation.
In order to make the theme of the poem not superficial and narrow, the poet imagines the world from near to far, from north to south, from the snowy peaks of Changbaishan Mountain and the mud of the Yellow River to the paddy fields of the south of the Yangtze River, the lychees of Lingnan, and the sea water of the South China Sea. The poet chooses the most typical landscapes in each region to be colored, which are both symbols of the people's sufferings and misfortunes and witnesses to the invaders' evils.
"Fingers stained with blood and ash, / palms stained with gloom" is a summary of the first half of the poem, but also echoes the first three or four lines. The second half of the poem unfolds in a world of imagination, depicting a picture of the heart's longing that contrasts greatly with the preceding scene of disaster: it is a "far corner," but the mountains and rivers are intact, and there is no darkness or blood.
Rather, it is full of warmth, light, and vitality, and "there is the sun, and there is spring". Compared with the mournful and sad tone of the first half, this part beats with the poet's uncontrollable joy and excitement; compared with the fast-flowing lyricism of the imagery in the first half, the second half is quiet and soothing, which makes the poem a perfect unity in the feelings of sadness and joy, and the lyrical style appears to be varied and colorful.
In the era when artistic contemplation was replaced by violent roaring, this poem is like a beautiful and never-fading oddball: the imagery is highly condensed but not obscure, the feelings are delicate but not dark, and the profound reality is perfectly intertwined with the modern lyrical style. Shu Ting's "Motherland, My Dear Motherland" I am the worn-out old waterwheel on your riverside spinning a tired song for hundreds of years; I am the smoky black miner's lamp on your forehead, illuminating you as you snail groping through the tunnels of history; I am the parched sheaf of rice; I am the out-of-repair roadbed; I am the barge on the silted beach strangling the fiber rope deep into your shoulders; - O motherland! I am poverty, I am sorrow.
I am the painful hope of your grandparents, ah, is "flying" between the sleeves of thousands of years did not fall on the ground flowers; - the motherland ah! I am your new ideals, just broken from the mythological cobwebs; I am the germ of the ancient lotus under your snow quilt; I am the smile of your tears; I am the newly brushed snow-white starting line; it is the scarlet dawn that is erupting; -- O motherland! I am one billionth part of you is the sum of your 9,600,000,000 square feet; you feed the confused me, the deep-thinking me, the seething me, with your scarred breasts; then from my flesh and blood go forth to obtain your; abundance, your glory, your liberty;-- O Motherland, my dear Motherland! The poem borrows from the Soviet poet Voznesensky's "Goya" the circular syntax "I am Goya, ...... I am ......", but with creative development. Most of the rounded sentences appear in the works of strong emotions, sad and painful mood is most appropriate to use it to render.
Shu Ting wrote about the relationship between "me" and the motherland, and used this syntax to increase the depth of pain and love.
The second stanza carries on the previous and the next, revealing that the flower of hope hidden in the soul of the Chinese nation has never died, although the disaster is heavy, the ideal will always be there, just not yet realized. This section of the first short sentence after the long sentence, and then the main word reappeared, seems to be not yet finished, a deep sense of regret will be diarrhea in the end of the pen.
The third section pours out hope, passionate, even with five sets of imagery to depict the motherland in the historical transition period of the face of a hundred things waiting to be done. Each image has its own unique significance, and the use of five sets of images in a row forms a metaphorical prose, which strengthens the exuberant mood and expresses the poet's feelings of joy and encouragement.
The first two lines of the fourth stanza use "one billionth" and "nine million six hundred thousand square feet" to form a contrast between small and large, implying that "I" am a part of the motherland, but "I" is a part of the motherland. "I am a part of the motherland, but the whole motherland is embraced in my breast. Then the breast to raise "me" and from "my flesh and blood to get" and into a contrast, highlighting "I" with the motherland's blood and milk relationship; and even confusion, deep thought, seething, and abundance,
If the first three stanzas are about the relationship between "me" and the motherland, the fourth stanza is about the relationship between the motherland and "me". The syntactic juxtaposition is a sign of the extreme excitement of the mood, which culminates in the double call for the main word.
The whole poem does not have a word of discussion, all depicted in imagery, with feelings through. The imagery chosen is simple and distinctive, unique and relevant, and each word is closely related to the scene being depicted.
The lyricism is not a sweeping outpouring, but pays close attention to its fluctuating rhythms, from sad and low to joyful and high.
2. Modern poems about the call for Taiwan"Song of the Seven Sons (Taiwan)" by Wen Yiduo We are a string of pearls from the East China Sea, the Ryukyus is my group of younger brothers, and I am Taiwan. My chest is still dense with the heroic soul of the Zheng family, and the red blood of loyalty has stained my family tradition. Mother, the hot summer sun is killing me; give me an order, I can still fight with my back to the city. Mother! I'm coming back, Mother! ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- -- Author of "I Only Have One Heart" / Traveling Taiwanese Scholar? My home is in China and in Taiwan.
My heart is in Taipei and in Beijing. We have the same yellow skin, we have the same black eyes, we use the same square characters, we flow from head to toe is the same blood of the yellow descendants of the Straits on both sides of the sisters and brothers, let us heart to heart, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder.
For the whole nation's wish for many years, with our hearts, with our strength, in the sky over the Taiwan Strait to build a colorful rainbow, on both sides of the Taiwan Strait to build the Great Wall of China, which will never be separated. ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- -- "Looking at the Mainland" by Yu Youren Burial of me on a high mountain, looking at my hometown; my hometown is not visible, but can never be forgotten.
Bury me on a high mountain and look at my continent; the continent is not visible and I can only cry bitterly. ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- --Yu Guangzhong's Ten Years of Watching the Mountain and Nostalgia, and Romain's Remote Pointing to the Mainland .......
3. Modern poems about calling out to Taiwan"Song of the Seven Sons (Taiwan)
Author / Wen Yiduo
We are a string of pearls cupped in the East China Sea,
The Ryukyus is my group of brothers I am Taiwan.
My chest is still dense with the soul of Zheng's heroes,
the red blood of Jingzhong stained my family tradition.
Mother, the hot summer sun is killing me;
Give me a command, I can still fight with my back to the city.
Mother! I will return, Mother!
--------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---
"I Only Have One Heart"
Author/traveling Taiwanese scholar?
My home is in China and in Taiwan.
My heart is in Taipei and in Beijing.
Even after decades of isolation,
how can we break the bond of flesh and blood?
We have the same yellow skin,
We have the same black eyes,
We use the same characters,
We have the same blood from head to toe
The same blood of the yellow descendants
Sisters and brothers on both sides of the Straits,
Let's be close to each other, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder.
For the wish of the whole nation for many years,
with our hearts and our strength,
let's build a colorful rainbow in the sky over the strait,
let's build the Great Wall on both sides of the strait which will never be separated.
--------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---
"Looking at the Mainland"
Author/Yu Youren
I am buried on a high mountain, looking at my hometown;
My hometown is not visible, but I can never forget it.
Buried on a high mountain, I look at my continent;
The continent is not visible, so I can only cry bitterly.
The sky is pale, the wild is vast;
Above the mountains, the country is in mourning!
--------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---
Yu Guangzhong's Ten Years of Looking at the Mountain, Nostalgia, and Romen's Remote Pointing to the Mainland ......
4. Desperately seeking modern poems that can express Taiwan's humanistic flavorThese poems are actually
It's a very old tune
It's said to be modern poetry
But it's been many years
Those poets
They are the songs of the other side of the river
--- Taiwan's poetry has evolved a unique flavor in a specific social and historical environment
The blood is thicker than the water
Let's look at it now.
The three elders of Taiwan's poetry scene, Ji Chun, Qin Zihao, and Zhong Dingwen
Ji Chun said:
----< The Resurrection of Poetry>
The moon, blackened by the soot of factories, trains, and ships,
doesn't belong to Li Bai;
And in my small telescope:
The moon, blackened by the smoke of the factory, train, and ship,
doesn't belong to Li Bai;
And in my small telescope,
I can see a lot.
And in my small telescope:
the moon, waxing and waning,
waxing and waning,
or occasionally and briefly obscured by the earth's great shadow,
does not belong to Li Bai either.
Li Bai is dead, and so is the moon, so here we are.
One day I will become a tree
One day I will become a tree:
My hair will become leaves; my legs will become roots;
my arms and fingers will become branches; my toes will become roots
stretching out in the soil, absorbing nutrients and water.
One day I will become a tree.
I may have some fragrant, white, tiny flowers,
and I may have some red, red fruit, which I can eat to prolong my life.
But I don't breed, I don't reproduce, I'm an exception.
I may grow taller, taller than I am now, more or less the same as an ordinary tree,
not an ordinary dwarf tree, nor an ancient tree in the sky.
I shall never be transplanted into the Garden of Eden,
for I am a tree that God does not like.
Qin Zihao said:
-------< The Sower of Poetry>
The will imprisons itself in a hut
Inside the hut there is a pale heaven and earth
A century's worth of songs floats in the ears
A blazing fire burns in the chest
Project the ideal On white paper
Sowing the seeds of fire in a square grid
The seeds of fire are stars in the sky
All perishing in the dark earth
When the seeds of fire light up the hearts of mankind
He will go away with a smile, and die with the world
Zhong Dingwen said:
----< Three Gorges >
The great river goes east,
10,000 miles to the end of the monstrous.
Stretching out the arms of the apes,
Opening the claws of the dragons;
The majestic strength of the body,
All depends on this section of the waist.
The mountains on both sides of the river are even higher in the cold,
At midnight, the moon in the middle of the sky is small;
There are fish and dragons jumping in the waves for thousands of years,
The apes of the past no longer cried,
But the whistles of sirens at the time of crossing the beach,
The same is soul-sucking.
I have been here several times,
each time I always think of the ancient "out of the plug";
surging waves, from the Qutang Gorge to the east,
just like the Han's soldiers and horses, from the Jade Gate Pass to the west,
sounds, always think of -
clattering car, horse Xiao Xiao.
Their poetry belongs to the beauty of that time, as Yang called the confession:
The Vatican's cellar can't keep my faith imprisoned
It is the counterfeiters who will always be afraid of the sun
The Prodigal Son of the Reviewing Day creeps back home
If the wheat doesn't die, where are we going to reap the earth's grain
Poetry doesn't die just as wheat doesn't die
There are only a few things we say about the world, and they are the only things that we say about the world that are not dead.
Only some of the poems that we call dead
will open up in splendor over the mountains
Thus, I am reminded of a spring river and of the bright moon on the river
It flows through the mountains, through the forests, and through the grassland scenery
It flows all the way through, from the sowing of seeds here to the harvesting of another seed
5.1. "Restoration of Taiwan" by Zheng Chenggong, Ming Dynasty
Opening up the thorns and hazelnuts to drive away the Dutch barbarians, ten years before the restoration of the first base.
There are still 3,000 guests in Tian Heng, and they can't bear to leave.
Full translation:
Driving away the Dutch devils, we came to develop the island through thorns and thistles;
We have to work hard for ten years to restore the foundation of our ancestors.
We have three thousand robes, like a family like a dear unity;
Any difficult trek, can not make us bear to part.
2, "Nostalgia" modern poet Yu Guangzhong
When I was a child,
Nostalgia is a small stamp,
I'm at this end,
my mother is at that end.
When I grew up,
Nostalgia was a narrow boat ticket,
I was at this end,
The bride was at that end.
Later,
Nostalgia is a short grave,
I'm on the outside,
mother is on the inside.
And now,
Nostalgia is a shallow strait,
I am at this end.
3. "Taiwan, we are waiting for you to go home" Modern Poet Zhao Jiayin
Swinging in the end
Just from the end to the beginning
In the shadow of the waves I will pass by
Reflecting my lover
My lover's long look at the native land
That was your fruitful
The dark aroma of the swimming
I am buried on a high mountain, looking at my continent; the continent is not visible, and I can only cry bitterly.
The sky is pale, the field is vast, above the mountain, the country is in mourning! The mainland is not allowed to go back to its hometown, the mainland is not allowed to go back to its hometown, the mainland is not allowed to go back to its hometown.
5, "Song of the Seven Sons - Taiwan" modern musician Yuan Zhongyi
We are a string of pearls cupped in the East China Sea,
The Ryukyus is my group of brothers, and I am Taiwan.
My chest is still dense with Zheng's heroic soul,
Jingzhong's red blood stained my family heritage.
Mother, the scorching summer sun is going to kill me,
Give me an order, I can still back the city to fight.
Mother, I'm coming back, Mother!
References:
Reference:
Baidu Encyclopedia - Nostalgia (Yu Guangzhong's poem "Nostalgia")
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References:
Reference: ----< These poems are actually very old as well. Tune It is said to be modern poetry, but it has also been many years in the past Those poets, ah They are the songs of the other side of the river --- Taiwan's poetry has evolved a unique flavor in a specific socio-historical environment The blood is thicker than the water We look at them now at that time; the two legs become the roots of the tree; the two arms and the ten fingers become the branches Every time, I always think of the ancient ": ---- The great river goes east, and the time is full of ... I am a kind of exception to this rule. I may be slowly growing taller: my hair into leaves; out of the plug", all thanks to this section of the bee waist. The day is cold, more feel the mountains on both sides of the high, I went several times to come, white ... One day, the sad apes of the past will no longer cry. Qin Zihao said: ------- As soul-sucking as ever. Here. Their poetry belongs to the beauty of the era, as Yang called confession: The Vatican cellar can not imprison my faith, the counterfeit maker is forever afraid of the sun, the approval of the prodigal son of the day prostrate home, if the wheat does not die, Qin Zihao and Zhong Dingwen Jixin said, just like the Han's soldiers and horses, I turned into a tree. I might bloom something especially fragrant, not the usual dwarf tree, nor an ancient tree: three of Taiwan's poets, Ji-chun, will imprison himself in a hut with a vast expanse of space, a century's worth of songs ringing in his ears, a blazing fire in his chest, and his ideals projected on a white sheet of paper, and in the squares of the grid, he sows the seeds of fire, which are the stars of the sky that perish in the darkness of the earth. When the seeds of fire light up the hearts of mankind he will smile and pass away Zhong Dingwen said... The ape's arm that stretches out the hundred rivers, the dragon's claw that opens up the five lakes; the majestic strength of that body, higher than now; the resurrection of the poem >, the time loss, or by the earth's huge shadow of the moon accidentally and briefly obscured is not belong to Li Bai. Li Bai died, a small flower, bear a few red fruit, that can be eaten to prolong life. But I do not reproduce, do not reproduce ... The surging waves from the Qutang Gorge eastward; waves have thousands of ancient fish and dragons jumping, 10,000 miles of all the heaving, and the general tree is almost the same, half of the night, only to see the middle of the sky of the moon is small, the moon is also dead, from the Jade Gate Pass to the west, listen to the sound of it, always think of - the car clattering, the horse Xiao Xiao ..., because I am a God's tree, I am a God's tree, I am a God's tree. Because I'm a tree that God doesn't like, so here we are. So here we are. Someday I will be a tree, someday I will be a tree, and the moon, blackened by the soot of factories and trains and ships, will not belong to Li Bai, but will be in my little telescope: up and down. I will never be transplanted to the Garden of Eden, but the whistling of whistles as they cross the beach. Once upon a time, I learned to sing old songs on the radio, and I asked my mom why I was sad as I was happy, and my mom smiled and said that she didn't understand it either, and I wanted to go out and walk around for a while, and my mom nodded her head, and when it was cold, you came back, and didn't wander around in the wind, and my mom's eyes had an understanding of it, as well as a hint of helplessness. The cold will come back gradually to the radio to learn to sing a new song I asked my friend why the dream is also happy my friend laughed and said he never believed in the dream I want to go out and walk around my friend nodded my friend cold you will come back don't wander in the wind there is understanding in the eyes of my friend there is also a trace of anticipation cold I want to go home childhood is no longer today's raindrops sprinkled down the taste is called the love of the radio now listening to the radio to listen to their own songs my he asked why the happiness is not happy me I smiled and said I don't understand he wants to go out for a walk I nodded to him when it's cold you'll be back don't wander in the wind I guess I have an understanding in my eyes and a hint of helplessness when it's cold he didn't go home I'm still waiting for tomorrow's raindrops to sprinkle down the taste of that is love wu. Don't wander in the wind wu. when it's cold, you'll be back.