Originally known as Guo Kaizhen, Guo Moruo was born in Shawan, Leshan, Sichuan Province, and studied at the family school at an early age, then enrolled in the Jiading Higher Education School in 1906, where he began to accept the idea of democracy, and went to Japan to study in the spring of 1914. In the spring of 1918, he wrote Shepherd's Lament, his first novel.
The Temptation of Death, written in the early summer of 1918, was his earliest new poem.
When the May Fourth Movement broke out in 1919, he organized a national salvation group, the Xia
Society, in Fukuoka, Japan, and devoted himself to the New Culture Movement, writing The Phoenix Nirvana and Earth.
In June 1921, he organized the Creation Society and edited the Creation Quarterly with Cheng Fuguo and Yu Dafu, and in 1923, he graduated from Japan's Teikoku University and returned to Japan to continue editing the Creation Weekly and Creation Day.
Between 1924 and 1927, he wrote the historical dramas Wang Zhaojun, Nie Ying, and Zuo Wenjun. 1928, he went into exile in Japan, and joined the Chinese League of Left Writers (中國左翼作家聯盟), and Left Union
in 1930, and participated in the activities of the Tokyo branch of the Left Union. In 1938, he became a member of the National Association of Literary and Art Circles Against the Enemy (全国文艺界抗敌協會). During this period, he wrote six historical dramas, including "Qu Yuan". He
also wrote historical treatises such as Ten Criticisms and The Age of Bronze and a large number of miscellaneous essays, essays, and
poems.
After the founding of the new China and Yangzi, he served as a member of the Central People's Government, Vice Premier of the State Council and Director of the
Culture and Education Committee, President of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, President of the First, Second and Third
Chairmen of the All-China Federation of Literature and Culture, and a member of the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Central Committees of the Chinese ****tional Party of the Communist Party of China (CCPC) and a vice-chairman of the Standing Committee of the First to the Fifth National People's Congress, and a member and Standing Committee member of the CPPCC. He is also a member of the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Central Committees of the Chinese People's Party, Vice Chairman of the Standing Committee of the First to Fifth National People's Congress, and a member, Standing Committee Member and Vice Chairman of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference. His works include "Ode to Xinhua", "Dongfeng Collection", "Cai Wenji",
"Wu Zetian" and "Li Bai and Du Fu".
Bibliography of Writings:
Goddess (Poetry) 1921, Taidong
Three Leaves Collection (Prose) Co-authored with Zong Baihua and Tian Han, 1920, Yadong
Starry Sky (Poetry) 1923, Taidong
Nie Ying (Scripts) 1925, Kwang-hua
Literary and Artistic Essays (Essay Collection) 1925, Guanghua
The Tower (collection of novels and plays) 1926, Commerce
Falling Leaves (collection of novels and plays) 1929, Creation Society
Three Rebellious Women (collection of plays) 1926, Guanghua
The History of Western Art (Theory) 1926, Commerce
Olive (collection of novels and essays )1926, Creation Society
The Bottle (collection of poems) 1927, Creation Society
The Front Row (collection of poems) 1928, Creation Society
Restoration (collection of poems) 1928, Creation Society
Below the Horizon (collection of novels and essays) 1928, Creation Society
My Early Years (autobiography) 1929, Kouhwa
The Drift Trilogy (collection of novels and plays) 1929, Xinxing Bookstore
Miscellany in the Mountains and Others (collection of novels and plays) 1929, Xinxing Bookstore
The Black Cat and the Tower (collection of novels and essays) 1931, Sendo Bookstore
Regret (collection of novels and plays) 1930, Kwanghua
The Black Cat and the Lamb (collection of novels) 3931, Kokusai
Imazu Jiyu (collection of essays) 1931, Ally Bookstore
Dancing on the Table (collection of novels and essays) 1931, Sendo Bookstore
Sequel to Literature and Art (collection of essays) 1931, Kouhwa
Ten Years of Creation (memoirs) 1932, Hyundai
< p>"Moro's Letters" (Collected Letters) 1933, Taidong"Ragging Meanings" (Historical Fiction) 1936, Buji Bookstore
"Northern Expedition" (Prose) lQ37, Chaofeng Publishing House
"Willing to be Cannon Fodder" (Dramatization) 1938, Beixin
"Sound of Battle" (Poetry) 1938, Warriors' Publishing House
"Ten Years of Creation" (Continuation of Memoirs) 1932, Hyundai
"The Decade of Creation Ten Years Continued (Memoirs) 1938, Beixin
Feather Book Collection (Prose and Essay Collection) 1941, Yu Xia Bookstore, Hong Kong
Qu Yuan (Script) 1942, Chongqing Wenlin Publishing House
Pu Jian Collection (Prose and Essay Collection) 1942, Chongqing Literature Bookstore
Tang Dai Zhi Hua (Script) 1942, Writer's Bookstore
The Tiger's Talisman (script) 1942, Qunyi
Quyuan Studies (essays) 1943, Qunyi
The Collection of the Present and the Past (collection of essays) 1943, Oriental Bookstore
Peacock Guts (script) 1943. Qunyi
Nan Guan Cao (script) 1944, Qunyi
The Bronze Age (Historical Essay) 1945, Wenzhi Publishing House
The Pre-Qin Doctrine Description Forest (Essay) 1945, Fujian Yongan Southeast Publishing House
Ten Critical Books (Historical Essay) 1945, Qunyi
Waves (Collection of Prose) 1945, Qunyi
Soviet Chronicle (Collection of Prose) 1946, Shanghai Chinese and Foreign Publishing House; Retitled Fifty Days in the Soviet
Union, 1949, New China Bookstore, Dalian
Returning (collection of essays) 1946, Beixin
Built (play) t946, Qunyi
Impressions of Nanjing (collection of essays) 1946, Qunyi
Youthful Times (autobiography) 1947, Haiyan
Revolutionary Spring and Autumn (autobiography) 1947, Haiyan
Appendicitis (collection of miscellaneous essays) 1947, Qunyi
Today and Tomorrow Pu Jian (collection of essays and miscellaneous essays) 1947, Haiyan
Historical Characters (historical treatise) 1947, Haiyan
Boiled Soup Collection (collection of essays and miscellaneous essays) 1947, Da Fu Publishing House
Heaven, Earth, and Xuanhuang (Collected Prose and Miscellaneous Writings) 1947, Dafu Publishing House
Underground Laughter (Collected Novels) 1947, Haiyan
The Path of Creation (Theory) 1947, Wenguang
Holding the Arrow Collected Writings (Collected Novels and Miscellaneous Writings) 1948, Haiyan
Products of Chuanchuanju Collected Writings (Collected Poems) 1948, Qunyi
< p>After the Rain Collection (poetry collection) 1951, Kai MingHai Tao (prose collection) 1951, New Literature and Art
The Age of Slavery (history) 1952, New Literature and Art
Mo Ruo Wenzheng (Collected Works of Mo Ruo) (Vols. 1-17) 1957-1993, Humanities
Hsiung Cock Collection (poetry collection) 1959, Beijing
Hongboqu (Autobiography) 1959, Hundred Flowers
Cai Wenji (Plays) 1959, Cultural Relics
Tide Collection (Poetry) 1959, Writers
Camel Collection (Poetry) 1959, Humanities
Mo Ruo Quanshu (The Complete Works of Mo Ruo) (Literature Edit. l-5 vols.) 1982-1987, Humanities
Mo Ruo Quanshu (Literature Edit. l-17) 1982-1987, Humanities
Mo Ruo Wenshi (Collected Works) (Vols. 1-17) 1957-1983, Humanities
The Rooster Collection (Poems) 5 volumes) 1982-1987, Humanities
Translations:
The Lake of Bacterial Dreams (novel), Germany, by Sturm, co-translated with Qian Junxu, 1921, Thiel
The Trouble with Junior Werther (long story), Germany, by Goethe, 1922, Taito
Social Organization and Social Revolution (essays), Japan, by Kawakami Shiu, 1924, Commerce
Social Organization and Social Revolution (essays), Japan, by Kawakami Shiu, 1924, Commerce
Social Organization and Social Revolution (essays), Japan, by Kawakami Shiu. 1924, Business
Selected Poems of Shelley, Shelley, England, 1926, Taito
Faust, Germany, Goethe, 1928, Creation Society
The Poetry of Moro, 1928, Creation Society
The King of Charcoal, Sinclair, USA, 1928, Shanghai Luck Club.
The Critique of Political Economy by Karl Marx, Germany, 1921, Shanghai Lequn Bookstore. By Karl Marx, 1921, Shenzhou
War and Peace (novel) by Leo Tolstoy, Russia. Tolstoy, 1935, Guangming Bookstore
The Reality of Art (Theory), Germany, by Karl Marx. Marx, 1947, Qunyi
*******************************************************
Shelley's Poems
Shelley is one of my favorite poets. He was a favorite son of nature, a believer in pantheism, and a revolutionary thinker. His poetry was his life. His life is
a wonderful poem. He was very much like our Chinese Jia
Yi. But Jia Sheng's talent was not yet glowing to the extent that he was. This gifted poet
also died young, and his impression on us is the same as that of a great youth forever.
Shelley's poetic mind was like a piano, with a big click for a big sound and a small click for a small sound.
He was at times majestic and suave, abrupt and empty; he was at times obscure and clear, like a sob.
He
is not just blowing a monotonous straw.
He is a great unfinished product. The universe, too, is only a great unfinished
product of eternity. The ancients compared poetry to wind. There are winds that uproot trees and bring down houses (Orkan), winds that shake great
trees (Sturm ), winds that shake small trees (Stark), winds that shake great branches
(Frisch), winds that shake small branches (Maessig), winds that lay down the grass and move the leaves
(Schwach), and winds that do not fall down the pillar of smoke (Still ). These are the kinds of poetic winds when the will
flows in the great universe. Shelley's poetic winds are also of this variety. The wind does not come from outside the sky
. Poetry does not come from outside the heart. Poetry that does not flow from the heart is not true
poetry. Shelley was the author of true poetry, a true poet.
To translate Shelley's poems is to make me Shelley, to make Shelley myself.
Translating poetry is not parroting the words of a monkey.
Marriage between a man and a woman is to be preceded by love, by ****ing, by the sympathy of the heart. I
loved Shelley, I could hear his heart, I could **** with him, I married him.
-I am one with him. His poems are like my own. I translated his
poems as if they were my own.
The modern poets Baudelaire and Verhaeren, who were doing prose poetry, were also
doing the extremely formal Sonnet and Alexandrian. Who says that the established poetic form is a decayed skeleton? Who says the free verse form is a ghost painting? Poetic form is a matter for Sein, not Sollen
. The person doing the poem has absolute freedom to do what he wants. His
poems flow out in a form that is close to the ancient style, not necessarily antiquarian. His poem reveals that he has broken all the established rules, and does not have to be forced to learn the fashion. After thousands of years, the present will become an ancient song.
Ancient forms from thousands of years ago were also fashionable at the time. But the fundamental spirit of the monism of poetry, the indivisibility of the body, has remained unchanged throughout the ages.
The Night of the December 4th Storm
From the February 1923 edition of The Creation Quarterly, Volume 1, Issue 4
*******************************************************
Dreams and Reality
On
Last night the moonlight-like sun shone on the grounds of Mega Park. All the trees
were praising their seclusion. The white butterflies, the yellow butterflies, tumbled among the flowers
of the musk peas, taking the butterfly flowers of the musk peas for their sisters
. You see them flying off and kissing the lips of the flowers, as if urging, "Sisters and sisters
, fly, fly, don't stand on the branches, let's fly together. The sun is so
warm and the air is so fragrant."
But the flowers just shook their heads on the branches.
In the midst of this background, I sat at the foot of a mulberry tree reading Tagore's English poem.
I read one of his poems about how he walked into a garden early in the morning and a blind woman presented
him with a wreath of flowers.
I realized that he was being symbolic and that the blind woman was the three beautiful
rooms of nature.
As soon as I realized this, all the butterflies before me became fluttering women
striving to make wreaths of the stems of the musk peas and to throw them at me.
I was buried in the graveyard of wreaths. --
It was only a broken dream, but what a fitful dream
it was!
Next
When I got up early this morning, I planned to take a walk in the square in front of the Jing'an Temple.
I was at the entrance to the East General Lane of Minhou Nanli, facing Fuhu Road, when I saw a
woman beggar instead. She was wearing only a tattered singlet, a few holes on the back of the garment revealing
a mass of purple flesh. She was perched under the wall with her head down, rolling a child's cotton shirt and
an adult's singlet into one long band.
A four-year-old daughter was perched beside her, playing with a black canvas back
bag. The female beggar rolled the garment once, as if it were not as light as she would like, and opened it up to be rolled again
and again.
The garment was rolled, and she wrapped it around her waist. As she reached for her cloth pouch,
the youngest daughter took a cloth belt out of the pouch, like a blackened leather belt.
As she put the pouch around her neck, her youngest daughter threw the band into the center of the road.
She asked her to bring it to her, but the little daughter refused, and deliberately ran aside to smile at her
.
She did not look up until then, ah, she was the one - blind.
She looked vacantly at the place where her daughter had laughed, and a vein of laughter
marks lurked on her yellow, swollen face.
Two or three children also came and stood beside me, but the youngest daughter took her bamboo pole
to banish it.
The youngest daughter, four years old, is the only protector her blind mother has left.
She frolicked for a while and brought the cloth to her blind mother, who used it to carry
her on her back. The blind female beggar got up with her hand on the wall, and with the bamboo pole in one hand, she got
pointed, and went off toward the Foch road.
I followed them on the one hand, and on the other thought:
Alas! One has to live on even at this stage!
The two rags around their waists were not the quilts that they had left at night to protect themselves from the cold, were they not?
People still have to live even when they reach this point! Why look to Shakespeare's masterpiece for the tragedy of life, why look to the battlefields of Sichuan and Hunan, and why look to Tokyo, Japan, in the aftermath of the great earthquake?
Does the sound of bamboo poles dotting the road ...... a march to the graveyard?
The trees along the bridle paths have finished shedding their leaves, and when they fall, they flutter in the wind.
Ah ah, people to this point also still have to live on! ......
I followed them to the front of the Jing'an Temple, and I couldn't bear to follow them anymore.
I found only two copper yuan on my body, and this became the most meager tribute I offered to them
.
In the winter of 1923, in Shanghai
*******************************************************
Parasitic Tree and Grass
The parasitic tree stood on a high branch of an ancient tree, smug in the air. It arrogantly
looked down at the fine grass below and said,
"You poor little grasses, look how high I am and how
small you are!"
The fine grasses did not answer.
The parasitic tree sang to itself again:
"Aha yo, I am the heavenly pride of nature. I have a great tree to be my shelter and a great
tree for my sustenance. I am the God who does not lose and does not labor, who looks up to the universe, who is in the presence of the grass,
who is in the presence of the floating clouds, who greets the friends of the birds. Aha yo, I am the heavenly pride in the great self
."
A thunderstorm struck down the great tree. The high branches of the parasitic and ancient trees fell and broke on the grass
. The fine grasses mourned for it.
The parasitic tree gradually died. Whenever it rained, the fine grasses memorialized it,
and wept for it.
The parasitic tree was picked up by the old woodcutter in a big basket and sold to the kiln to be burned. Whenever
it rained, the fine grasses still memorialized it and wept for it.
In 1924, in Shanghai
*******************************************************
Rosebuds along the roadside
I went for a walk in the pine forest in the early morning. I found a bunch of abandoned roses along the boulevard
. The roses were still brightly colored, one purplish red, one soft red, and one
a sickly yellow ivory with a hint of blood.
I picked the roses up in my hand.
The verdant leaves had collected fine dewdrops, which had obviously been
discarded last night.
Is this the poor maiden who has been deceived by a man of ill fortune? Or was the unfortunate youth
played with by a mad woman?
Sweet whispers last night, cold dewdrops this day ......
I have brought the rose to the house, and I want to find a vase for it.
The vase I did not have, and I hunted in a corner for a broken-necked earthen bottle for wine
.
--Rose, O Rose, though I cannot feed thee with the wine of spring, I will feed thee with the
clean fountain of streams, the clean heart of vegetation. Though thou shalt not fail to flutter in this broken bottle, it is better for thee than to be trampled on by the wayside, is it not?
*******************************************************
The Camellia
Last night I came back from the mountain and picked a few bunches of Izumi, a few clusters of Autumn Hawthorn, and a few branches of camellia with buds
.
I pitched them inside an iron pot and hung them between the walls.
The bright red hawthorns and tender yellow fruits against the rich blue camellia leaves - a flavor that cannot be portrayed in any way
.
The black iron pot was even more like the moss-coated bones of the rock.
When I woke up this morning from a deep sleep, the small room smelled of a fragrant, unknown flower.
Where did it come from?
It turned out that the camellia thrown into the iron pot had blossomed into four white flowers!
Ah, Qingqiu is living in my pot!
*******************************************************
Banana Flowers
This was when I was five or six years old. I'm thinking of my mother now and suddenly
remembered the story.
My mother was born sixty-six years ago in Huangpingzhou, Guizhou Province. My maternal grandfather
Du Zhuozhang Gong was the state official of Huangping Prefecture at that time. Soon after his arrival, there was a rebellion by the Miao people,
which led to the loss of the city, and my grandfather killed his four-year-old sister-in-law, killing himself in the courtroom.
Grandmother and seven-year-old Third Aunt jumped into the pool at the state capital and most of the men and women
servants were also killed. Our mother was only one year old at the time, Nurse Liu carried our
mother on her back and jumped into the pool, but escaped
out. On the way, she met two bandits, the first was robbed of gold and silver jewelry,
the second was robbed of her clothes. Loyal and righteous Liu Nurse in the farmer's home to beg some
straw to cover themselves, still carrying the mother to escape. She fled to a later encounter with the government troops who came to her aid before
being rescued. Initially flow to the city of Guizhou Province, followed by the flow to the city of Yunnan Province, leaning on the people under the hut
, subjected to all kinds of abuse, but the loyalty of Nurse Liu is always protecting our
mother. Until my mother was four years old, my uncle went to Huangping to collect the body, then the road to Yunnan, only
The mother and Liu nurse brought back to Sichuan.
Mother was the one who suffered such misfortune in her early childhood.
Mother came to our family when she was fifteen years old, and our surviving brothers and sisters
sisters*** numbered eight, and we heard that one brother and three sisters had died.
At that time, our family was very poor,
and we had to share all the cooking and cleaning with our sisters-in-law, and our mother had a lot of children, so she suffered a lot of fatigue.
This is the first time that I have ever seen a woman in a house with a large number of children.
During the day, the housework was busy, and in the evening, she carried her younger brother to wash the diapers under the lamp
Scene, I saw it with my own eyes when I was a child, and I still remember it.
Because of this overwork, my mother's body was unusually weak, and every year she would faint once in the fall, which was called "fainting sickness" in the olden days, but now I think
that this was a uterine disease caused by poor nutrition in the puerperium.
When she was sick, my mother fell asleep on the bed, moaning and vomiting all day long,
and she could not eat, not to mention that she could hardly even import tea.
It took two weeks for her to recover from the illness, and she was very sick.
The story of the plantain flower is related to this sickness.
In our countryside in Sichuan, it is rumored that the banana flower is a good medicine to cure dizziness.
When my mother was sick, we had to go around and ask people to buy banana flowers. But this banana flower is not
easy to buy. Because the banana in our Sichuan is not easy to bloom, bloomed when the countryside
The people are regarded as auspicious, and refused to easily pick and sell. It is easy to buy a banana flower,
When we were small, to manage the price of two fat chickens.
Banana flowers bought, but the petals are useless, available only in the petals of
banana seeds. The plantain seeds are also useless when they have already formed a fruit, and the only thing that is useful
is the stage when the plantain seeds are almost still pistils. You really can't pick many of these
like plantain seeds from a single flower.
This kind of banana is not good at all, we have eaten bananas, such as
that eating bananas will be afraid of eating bananas, that is a big mistake. I have a mother
parents eat bananas, in the bedside of the hold over a chopsticks to me, simply astringent can not enter
mouth.
The story of the banana flower is connected to my mother's sickness.
We Sichuanese are mostly provincials, and after Zhang Xianzhong's invasion of Sichuan -
There is a saying among Sichuanese that "Zhang Xianzhong's invasion of Sichuan left no one alive" - in the Qing Dynasty
This is the first time I have seen a Sichuanese woman in the country, and it is the first time I have seen a Sichuanese woman in the country," he said. -There seems to have been a great emigration movement in the early Qing
period. The Sichuanese from other provinces each had their own
houses, even in very small towns.
Our ancestors were originally from Fujian, in Ninghua County, Tingzhou Prefecture, and I have heard that there are
some of our fellow clansmen living there. It was at the beginning of the Qing Dynasty that our ancestors entered Sichuan,
and settled in a small village under Mount Emei. Our Hokkien meeting place is the Tianhou Palace,
which is dedicated to a goddess called "Tianhou Shengmu" (Heavenly Queen Mother). There is also
one in our village.
It was when I was five or six years old. Our mother had another dizzy spell. I went with
my second brother, who was four years older than me, to the Tin Hau Temple. It was only half a mile from our
home, and there was a school in it where the children of the Hokkien people went to study
. When we went there, the school was on vacation, probably around mid-autumn. Through the window, we saw a cluster of bananas in the garden of the museum, and one of them was blooming a
big yellow flower, like a lotus with pointed petals. We were overjoyed. At that time we
were looking for plantain flowers in our house, but could not find any anywhere. We talked and went over the window
to pick the banana flower. The window was only three or four feet high, but I couldn't get over it at the time
and my second brother helped me get there. The two of us easily picked the buds
down, the second brother afraid of people seeing, to hide under the coat sleeve to go back the same way.
When I returned home, I was told to take the flower buds to my mother. I ran to my mother's bed, and my mother
asked me where I got it from, and I told her that I got it from Tin Hau Kung. My mother
was very angry when she heard this, and she told us to kneel down in front of the bed, and just sighed again and again
saying, "Ah, my mother has given birth to such unprofitable children as you, so it would be better for me to die of illness!" We all cried, but I didn't know what we were crying about.
A little while later, my father found out, and he dragged us to kneel in front of our ancestors in the hall and beat
us for a while. It was only this time that I was slapped, and I still remember it.
We were beaten and sad. But I didn't know why I should be angry with my father and
mother. My mother was sick and wanted to eat banana flowers. I took one out of the garden somewhere else and
why did I make such a big mistake?
The plantain flower was useless, and was returned to the Queen of Heaven, where it was killed in front of the throne of the Queen of Heaven
.
A story like this, when I think of my mother now, for no apparent reason it comes to my heart
. I am now away from home for twelve or thirteen years, on the occasion of this new fall, and the late night of the storm,
The feelings of the end-of-the-world detainee who is not able to overcome the lonesome, thinking of my mother, I have a bout of sore nose and eyes.
Ah, mother, my loving mother! Your son has reached middle age and has already married and had children outside the sea
. I know now why the story of the picking of the banana flower when I was young grieved my father and mother so much. However, because of this knowledge, I have lost my confidence and courage to pick banana flowers. Is this progress
?
*******************************************************
The Cuckoo
The cuckoo, the soul of my fellow countrymen, occupies a place in literature that I am afraid no bird can
compare.
When we mention the cuckoo, our hearts and eyes seem to have endless poetic meaning.
It is needless to say that it is already the embodiment of Wangdi itself. Sometimes it is also considered thin life
good people, worried about the country's aspirants; sound is full of nostalgia, blood is tramping all over the mountain; poor,
mournful, pure, sincere ...... in people's minds has become a symbol of love. This symbol of love
seems to have become the feelings of the nation.
And, this feeling also transcends the scope of the nation, most of the countries in the East were
infected. In Japan, for example, the cuckoo occupies no less a place in literature than in China.
However, this is one of the greatest examples of the discrepancy between name and reality.
The cuckoo is a grayish-black bird with unattractive plumage, and its habits are tyrannical and brutal
The cuckoo is a grayish-black bird with unattractive plumage, and its habits are tyrannical and brutal
.
The cuckoo does not nest, nor does it incubate eggs to feed its young. During the reproductive season, it lays its eggs in the
warbler's nest and lets the warbler incubate and feed the chick for it. The chicks are larger than the warblers, and when they reach adulthood, they are even
larger than the mother warbler. The Cuckoo's eggs are bigger than the mother's, and when they are hatched, the Cuckoo will push the warbler out of the nest and leave it to die of hunger and cold,
while the Cuckoo will be the only one to feed the mother's warbler.
The warbler was bullied by the cuckoo without realizing it,
and worked hard to feed the cuckoo chick that was bigger than itself; it was really a scene that made people feel injustice and made
people shed tears.
Thinking of these realities, one feels that the cuckoo is a bird that can be used as a specimen of a deceiver
. However, the cuckoo cannot be left to its own devices. The cuckoo is just a cuckoo, and it does
not ask people to think of it as a good person or an aspirant.
Man's intelligence is not far from that of the warbler, and there are plenty of examples of people who rely on subjective imagery without any regard for reality.
There are also many other examples of people who rely on subjective imagery without any regard for reality.
So there were and are countless human-faced cuckoos being fed by men. What will
be in the future? Though the warbler cannot answer this question, man is supposed to answer and can
answer it.
Spring 1936
*******************************************************
Paeony and others
Paony
Last night, I went backstage at Cathay to console my friends who were performing in "Qu Yuan".
Paeonia lactiflora was abandoned under the dressing table, and I picked it up.
There were two bones on the branch, neither of which had yet bloomed; it must have been abandoned when the wreath was made
for Qu Yuan.
In a place as cluttered as that, it was fortunate that it had been thrown under the table and not trampled on.
Took it back to the apartment, cut off a long stem, burned the cut on a vegetable oil lamp for a
minute, and stuck it in a small white magnetic bottle on my desk.
When I got up early in the morning, I saw the peony blooming inside the bottle. The flowers were pink and the leaves were green, smiling at me.
April 12
Water Stones
The little stones in the water are, I think, the most wonderful works of art.
The roundness, the smoothness, and the variety of forms, patterns, and colors, I'm afraid
are more than humanly possible.
This does not have to be the Yuhuatai aragonite, is everywhere along the river moraine
are worth your flavor.
You such as squatting in the moraine on the side of the flowing water, willing to pay attention to the water, you can
to find a strange world.
That world is really gorgeous, novelty, but also simple, modest, is a
a kind of very inner beauty.
But those stones were not good to take out of the water.
Taken out of the water, the water is not yet dry, more or less still preserved its wonderful. When
the water dries up, the beauty is lost.
I felt, more or less, the secret of art.
April 12
Stone Pool
In front of the Yiyuan in the Zhang family's garden there is a large stone pool with a sloping bottom and stone steps for people to
go up and down, which was inevitably chiseled at the beginning to make a swimming pool. But inside a bead of water is not
there. Nor, because the joints were tightly masoned, was there a single blade of grass bursting forth, or a penny of moss steaming out.
I used to live in that neighborhood, and occasionally went for a walk, and saw the neighboring garrison
sometimes drilling on the bottom of the pool. These were to be considered the temporary flying meteors of life
in this rocky pool.
On one occasion an enemy plane attacked and dropped a blatant incendiary bomb inside the rock pool, blowing up
shattering a few slabs of stone and scorching some rubble.
The bomb wasn't very big, and it was soon filled with the shattered rubble. The stone pool
Naturally, it was wounded, taking a scar with it.
After a short time, the scar was covered by a patch of green weeds.
The stone pool was a phantom oasis of life.
Morning, April 26
Motherly Love
This is a sad picture that I will never forget.
It was the night of May 3, three years ago, when enemy planes bombed and burned to death
a lot of people.
The next morning I went uphill from Guanyin Rock and saw two members of the protective corps carrying the charred body of a woman.
But on closer inspection, it was not just one person, but a mother and her son coke together.
Breast holding is a still breastfeeding baby, belly curled up in front of another
Fear of a three-year-old light it.
Mother and child were all charcoal, completely charred together.
But was it just charcoal?
April 30, 1942 morning
Yifan Public Library (shuku.net)
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