On March 28, 1933, a bright spring day, the author, during a sleepless night in a Shanghai prison cell, wrote this tragic and rebellious poem "The Reed Flute" on a padded book by the light of an iron grille, accusing him of denouncing this sinful world with no freedom.
The poem was written in honor of the late French modernist poet Apollinaire (1880-1918). Ai Qing was reading Apollinaire's book of poems ALCOOL (French: Wine) in his prison cell at the time, and his emotions were so infected that he was ignited like wine. He quoted two lines from this poet, whom he loved, as the epigraph to The Reed Flute:
"Back in the day I had a reed flute / I wouldn't trade it for the knuckledusters of the Grand Marshal of France."
About this poem, Ai Qing gave a brief explanation: "I symbolize the reed flute for art, and the marshal's knuckledusters for immoderate power; the poem curses Briand, and curses Bismarck in Germany; and it says that I will stretch out my hand to the Bastille as if it were 1789, and this Bastille is not the Bastille of Paris."
2. Appreciation of Aizen's reed fluteThe reed flute has a rich and vast symbolism.
This reed flute is brought back from Europa, which is colorful in the poet's mind. He was y enchanted and drenched by the distinctive paintings of the late Impressionist masters, Cézanne, Gauguin, Van Gogh, and Mo's Rignani, which added light and color to the whole world, and by the equally novel poems of Baudelaire, Rimbaud, and Verhallen, etc., and he had his own brush connected with life. Whether he painted or wrote poetry, this pen of wisdom made him live a more sober and strong life, and he was full of self-confidence.
But he was unable to paint in prison, and poetry was imprisoned; both he and his pen had sinned. So the poet protested against the unrighteous powers that be, he could not openly expose and curse the imperialists and feudal rulers who were oppressing and ravaging China at that time, and he scornfully reviled the Brians and Bismarcks of Europe, who were massacring and oppressing the freedom and democracy fighters and upright artists of Europe.
The poem is the poet's oath of rebellion against the reactionary rulers of China and a song that curses their demise.
3. Ai Qing's "Europa"This poem was written in honor of the late French modernist poet Apollinaire (1880-1918).
Ai Qing was reading Apollinaire's book of poems ALCOOL (French: Wine) in prison, and his emotions were so infected that he was lit up like wine. He quoted two lines from this beloved poet as the epigraph to The Reed Flute: "I had a reed flute back then / I wouldn't trade it for the knuckle of a French marshal".
On this poem, Ai Qing gave a brief explanation: "I symbolize the reed flute for art, and the marshal's scepter for immoderate power; the poem curses Briand, and curses Bismarck in Germany; and it says that I will stretch out my hand to the Bastille as if it were 1789, and this Bastille is not the Bastille of Paris." The reed flute has a rich and expansive symbolism.
The reed flute was brought back from Europa, which was colored in the poet's mind. He was enchanted and saturated by the distinctive paintings of the late Impressionist masters Cézanne, Gauguin, Van Gogh, Mo's Rignani, who added light and color to the whole world, and by the equally novel poems of Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Verhallen, etc.
This reed flute was brought back from Europa, and in the poet's mind Europa is colorful.
He also had his own life-affirming brush. Whether he painted or wrote poetry, this pen of wisdom made him more conscious and strong, and he was full of self-confidence.
But he is unable to paint in prison, and his poetry is imprisoned; both he and his pen have sinned. So the poet protested against the unrighteous powers that be; he could not openly expose and curse the imperialists and feudal ruling figures who were oppressing and ravaging China at that time.
He scornfully reviles the Brians and Bismarcks of Europe, who massacred and oppressed the freedom and democracy fighters and upright artists of Europe. The poem is the poet's pledge of rebellion against the reactionary rulers of China and a song that curses their demise.
Extended Information Ai Qing returned from Europa with a reed flute, and what he brought back was a kind of "nostalgia". The metropolis does not have a reed flute, the metropolis is a gentleman, it can not hear the reed flute, nativism makes Ai Qing returned to his hometown, re-knowing his hometown.
Ai Qing wrote his most important poems, "Dayan River, My Nanny" and "Snow Falling on the Land of China", and he and the modernist poets of the Southwest Union University, took a completely different path. He went back to his nanny, and he could not "go to the place where he had lived for all eternity".
He accomplished a shift in worldview. Ai Qing did not bring back Renaults from Europa, or coffee, or "the long, bewildering tales of Montmartre, spat out by Marguerite's trembling, powdered lips in the color of cordiality ......". He brought back a reed flute, a product of Jinhua. The reed flute is a product of Jinhua.
It is a paradox. Returning for the first time, he returned, like Ulysses, from another country to his homeland, to the Dayan River.
Ai Qing set out from Jinhua in a long coat, and in Paris, he became an elite in a suit. But in the end he returned to Dayanhe.
He took the Lu Xun-style path of fetishization.
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Ai Qing poetry excerpts and appreciation Reef Ai Qing A wave, a wave, a wave, endlessly pounding over each wave at its feet, was broken into foam, scattered ...... its face and body as if cut by a knife, but it still stood there smiling, looking at the ocean. ...... From the point of view of artistic technique, in the poem "Reef", the poet cast his unique thinking about life into the symbolic image of "reef", so that the reef is personified, so when you read it, you should be transcendent to the outside world, and think more y.
Indeed, the use of symbolism makes the poem endless! Live life with a smile on your face, no matter how much difficulty and frustration you encounter, be it a person or a nation. This is the most profound inspiration that "The Reef" gives us! Ai Qing's poem "Hope" "Hope" The friend of dreams, the sister of fantasies, the shadow of yourself, but always ahead of you, as invisible as light, as restless as the wind, there is always a distance between her and you, like the birds outside the window, like the clouds in the sky, like the butterflies by the river, both cunning and beautiful, when you go up, she flies away, when you ignore her, she chases you away, and she will always be with you, until your breath is taken away.
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Ai Qing has been presenting his most sincere poetic feelings to the rural working people for more than a decade, starting from his love for them and his demand to be close to them. [9] Ai Qing's poetry inherited the fine tradition of the May Fourth New Literature with its close connection to reality and rich fighting spirit, and became an important harvest of the development of new poetry with its exquisite and innovative artistic style.
The author's artistic talent is reflected here, and his serious and painstaking artistic practice is also kept in mind. In his poetry, full of enterprising spirit and rich life experience bring distinct.
Ai Qing's poetry has a distinct and profound image, and with the end of the poem, the image is completed. Image, not only refers to people, but also includes the visualization of objects, as well as ideas.
Ai Qing Poetry Selected Poems and Appreciation 1, "Reef" A wave, a wave, a wave, endlessly coming, each wave at its feet, was broken into fragments, scattered ...... Its face and body, like a knife cut, but it still stood there with a smile, looking at the sea ... 2, "I love you", "I love you", "I love you", "I love you", "I love you", "I love you", "I love you", "I love you", "I love you". ... 2. "I Love This Land" If I were a bird, I should sing with a hoarse throat: this storm-battered land, this river that is always raging with our grief, this angry wind that blows endlessly, and the gentle dawn that comes from the forest. ...... --And then I died, and even my feathers rotted in the ground. Why are there tears in my eyes? Because I love the land so much ...... 3.
To the Sun
In the morning, I woke up from my sleep, and was glad to see your light; -- though last night I was still sleepy, and was haunted by countless nightmares.
Thy fresh, tender, and clear light shone on my window, which I had not opened for a long time, and painted the paper with a pale yellow color like pollen, and nestled it in a light blue and neat latticework, and, full of thankfulness, I arose from my bed, and opened the door of the window, which had been shut for a winter, and allowed thee to spread the bright tablecloth, of all gold silk, on my table by the window. Then I was surprised to see you: so real that there was no room for doubt, standing on the top of the opposite mountain, and smiling so brightly.
I opened my eyes hard to see you, longing to capture your image, how intense, how trance-like, how solemn! Thy light stung my pupils. O Sun, thou immortal philosopher, thou bringest joy to the earth, and even the most unfortunate see thee, and feel thy comfort in their hearts.
Thou art the smith of time, the gilders of the good life; thou castest the days into myriads of golden wheels, which hover in the ancient wilderness ...... Without thee, O Sun, all life would lie prostrate in the gloom, and, even if it had wings, would only be like bats, flying in the eternal darkness of the night. I love you as men love their mothers, you feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat - make me live passionately and suffer for my ideals, until my life is taken away by death.
After a long and lonely winter, today I want to go up to the top of the mountain, disrobe myself, naked, and bathe my soul in your light. ...... 4. "Notice of the Dawn" For the sake of my prayers Arise, O poet, and tell them to give the sun In the morning, I woke up from my sleep, and was glad to see your light. Though last night I was sleepy, and haunted with nightmares. Thy fresh, tender, and clear light shone on my window, which I had not opened for a long time, and painted the paper with a yellowish, pollen-like color, and embedded it in a light blue and neatly arranged lattice, and, filled with thankfulness, I arose from my bed, and opened the door of the window, which had been shut for a winter, and allowed thee to spread on my window-table a bright table-towel, of all gold silk.
Then, to my surprise, I saw you: so real that there was no room for doubt, standing on the top of the opposite mountain, and smiling so brightly. I opened my eyes hard to see you, longing to catch your image, how intense, how trance-like, how solemn! Your light stung my pupils.
O Sun, thou immortal philosopher, thou bringest joy to the earth, and even the most unfortunate see thee, and feel thy comfort in their hearts. Thou art the smith of time, the gilders of the good life; thou castest the days into countless golden wheels, and hast spun them over the ancient wilderness ...... Without thee, O Sun, all life would lie prostrate in the gloom, and even if it had wings, it would only be like a bat flying in the eternal night.
I love you as people love their mothers, you feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat - make me live passionately and suffer for my ideals, until my life is taken away by death. After a long, lonely winter, today I want to go to the top of the mountain, disrobe myself, be naked, and bathe my soul in your light ...... .
Ai Qing's poem "The Tree" First answer you this poem with love.
5. Ai Qing's Selected Poems
1. "Reef" A wave, a wave, a wave, endlessly coming, each wave at its feet, broken into pieces, scattered ...... Its face and body like a knife cut, but it still stands there with a smile, looking at the ocean ... 2. ... 2. "I Love This Land" If I were a bird, I should sing with a hoarse throat: this storm-battered land, this river that is always raging with our grief, this angry wind that blows endlessly, and the gentle dawn that comes from the forest. ...... --Then I died, and my feathers rotted in the earth.
Why are there tears in my eyes? Because I love the land so much ...... 3. To the Sun In the morning, I wake from sleep, and rejoice to see thy light; -- Though last night I was still sleepy, and haunted by countless nightmares. Thy fresh, tender, and clear light shone on my long unopened window, and painted the paper with a pale yellow color like pollen, and embedded it in a light blue and neat lattice of shadows, e68a84e8a2ade79fa5e981933133336131313238 I was filled with gratitude, and rose from my bed, and opened the door of the window, which had been shut for a winter, and allowed thee to spread on my window table the bright tablecloth of full gold silk. I am grateful to you for spreading the beautiful tablecloth of all gold silk on the table by the window.
Then, to my surprise, I saw you: so real that there was no room for doubt, standing on the top of the opposite mountain, and smiling so brightly. I opened my eyes hard to see you, longing to catch your image, how intense, how trance-like, how solemn! Your light stung my pupils.
O Sun, thou immortal philosopher, thou bringest joy to the earth, and even the most unfortunate see thee, and feel thy comfort in their hearts. Thou art the smith of time, the gilders of the good life; thou castest the days into countless golden wheels, and hast spun them over the ancient wilderness ...... Without thee, O Sun, all life would lie prostrate in the gloom, and even if it had wings, it would only be like a bat flying in the eternal night.
I love you as people love their mothers, you feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat - make me live passionately and suffer for my ideals, until my life is taken away by death. After a long and lonely winter, I want to go today to the top of the mountain, to disrobe myself, to be naked, and to bathe my soul in your light. ...... 4. "Notice of the Dawn" For the sake of my prayers Rise up, O poet, and tell them to give the sun Morning, I woke up from sleep, and rejoiced at the sight of your radiance; --Though last night I was sleepy, and haunted by a thousand nightmares.
Thy fresh, tender, and clear light shone on my window, which had not been opened for a long time, and gave the paper a yellowish, pollen-like color, and nestled it in a light blue and neat lattice of shadows, and, full of thankfulness, I arose from my bed, and opened the door of the window, which had been shut for a winter, that thou mightest spread the bright table-towel, woven of all gold, on the table by my window. Then I was surprised to see you: so real that there was no room for doubt, standing on the top of the opposite mountain, and smiling so brightly.
I opened my eyes hard to see you, longing to catch your image, how intense, how trance-like, how solemn! Thy light stung my pupils. O Sun, thou immortal philosopher, thou bringest joy to the earth, and even the most unfortunate see thee, and feel thy comfort in their hearts.
Thou art the smith of time, the gilders of the good life; thou castest the days into myriads of golden wheels, which hover in the ancient wilderness ...... Without thee, O Sun, all life would lie prostrate in the gloom, and, even if it had wings, would only be like bats flying in the eternal night. I love you as men love their mothers, you feed my ideas and thoughts with light and heat - make me live passionately and suffer for my ideals, until my life is taken away by death.
After a long, lonely winter, I want to go to the top of the mountain today, to disrobe myself, to be naked, to bathe my soul in your light, to say that what they are waiting for is coming, that I have come in the dew, that I have come by the light of the last star, that I have come from the East, from the sea that is raging with waves, and that I am bringing light to the world, and warmth to the world, and that I am bringing the world a light. I will bring light to the world and warmth to mankind, and by the mouths of your righteous men, carry my message, informing mankind, whose eyes are burned with longing, and the cities and villages far away, steeped in misery, that they are invited to welcome me, Herald of the Day, Lightbringer of the Light, open all the windows, open all the doors, let the whistles be blown to welcome me, let the trumpets be blown to welcome me, the scavengers sweep the streets, the caravans take out the garbage, let the laborers walk with a broad step, and let the people who have been waiting for me, say that I have come in the dew and by the light of the last star. Let the laborers walk the streets in broad strides, let the cars flow through the squares in brilliant procession, let the villages wake up from their damp fog, let the village women open their roosts, let the farmers bring their oxen from the barns, let them know by your warm mouth that I come from the mountains, from the forests, and ask them to clean the sunny fields and the ever-filtered patios, to open the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows, the windows. Open the windows, open the doors with their spring scrolls, wake up the attentive women and the snoring men, wake up the young lovers, wake up the sleepy maidens, wake up the sleepy mothers and the babies beside them, wake up everyone, even the sick and the mothers in childbirth, even the old and the groaning in their beds, even the wounded in the wars of righteousness, and the refugees who are displaced from their homelands, wake up the less fortunate, and I will give comfort to them. Wake all those who love life, workers, craftsmen, painters, singers with songs of welcome, with voices of grass and dew, dancers with dances of welcome, clothed in their misty garments, wake those who are healthy and beautiful and say that I am coming to knock on their windows, and bring to mankind, faithful poets of time, a message of comfort, that they are ready to welcome, that all are ready to welcome, when the rooster crows for the last time, and when the cock crows for the last time. I will come when the cock last crows, and beseech them to gaze with devout eyes upon the heavens, and I will give the most gracious light to all that look for me, and while the night is almost over, tell them that what they have waited for is coming.
6. Seek the background of Ai Qing's "Reed Flute"Original text: I brought back a reed flute from your colorful Europa, with which I used to walk along the Atlantic Ocean as if I were at home, and now your book of poems, "Alcool", is in the police station in Shanghai, and I am "guilty", and here the reed flute is in the "Alcol", and here it is in the "Alcol". I'm a "criminal" and the reed flute is forbidden here.
I think of the reed flute, which is my most sincere memory of Europa, Apollinaire, you are not only a Pole, because you are in my eyes, really a section of the story of Montmartre, the long, confusing, coruscating story spit out by the trembling, powdered lips of Marguerite. Who should not spit contempt toward that Briand and Bismarckian landscape-the Europa that overflows in the corners of its eyes with avarice, with vile thievery? But I tarry to love thy Europa, O Europa of Baudelaire and Lamb.
There I have played the reed flute with pride on a hungry stomach, and people laughed at my gestures, for they were my gestures! People are not used to hearing my songs, for they are my songs! Go away, you who have sung the Marseillaise, and are now lusting after that glorious victory! Today, I am in the Bastille. No, not that Bastille of Paris.
The lute is not at my side, and the irons are louder than my song, but I will swear - to the lute, for which it is in agonizing dishonor, that I will reach into the flames of the burning flesh as if it were seventeen hundred and eighty-nine! On the day it comes out, it will blow the song of the curse of destruction against the world that has abused it. And I will lift it high, and give it to the sea in the sad Hymne, to the waves of the sea, the rough hissing waves of the sea! March 28, 1933 INFORMATION: Concerning this poem, Aizen gave a brief explanation, "I symbolize the reed flute for art, and the marshal's knuckledusters for immoderate power; the poem curses Briand, and curses Bismarck in Germany; and it says that I shall stretch out my hand, as if it were 1789, to the Bastille, which is not the Bastille of Paris. "
Ai Qing, a modern literary figure and poet. Ai Qing's poetry is closely related to the reality, rich in the spirit of combat inherited the fine tradition of the "May Fourth" new literature, but also with the exquisite and innovative artistic style of the development of new poetry has become an important harvest.
Ai Qing's poetry is closely related to the reality, rich in fighting spirit inherited the fine tradition of the May Fourth New Literature, but also beautiful and innovative artistic style has become an important harvest of the development of new poetry.
7. Pigeon Whistle Ai Qing Appreciation, AnswerAppreciation:
This poem is sincere, full of emotion, and far-reaching. In seemingly simple and plain language, it depicts a clear sky in the vast blue north. It expresses the poet's deep love for the north and for the new China.
The language of the poem is natural and sincere, smooth and simple. The description of the "blue sea water more blue blue", so that the poem has a very bright color beauty, the mood is quiet and beautiful, reading gives a person aesthetic pleasure. Through the description of the sunny days in the north, the poem shows the interest of nature and expresses his deep love for this land. After reading, every reader will be y infected, love is born.
The poem was written at the beginning of the new Chinese state, the theme of Ai Qing's poetry at this stage is mainly to praise the brightness of the new China, eulogize the independence of the motherland and the liberation of the people. He also focused on exploring the beauty of the human heart, capturing images and singing about life from the perspective of human spiritual life. This poem is no exception. By praising the vastness and depth of the northern clear sky, it expresses the author's love for the motherland and his yearning for a new life.
The original text of "Pigeon Whistle":
The clear sky in the north
A vast expanse
I love its color
More blue than the sea water
How much I want to fly
Hovering high in the sky
Emitting an intoxicating whistling
The sound carries further and further away ...
Expanded Information:
Ai Qing's Poetic Style
Before the liberation, Ai Qing cursed the darkness and eulogized the light with his deep, stirring, and exuberant strokes; and after the founding of the country, and After the founding of the country, he sang the praises of the people, saluted the light, and thought about life as he always did.
His "return" song, the content is more extensive, the thought is more thick, the emotion is more deep, the technique is more diverse, the art is more mature. After the founding of the People's Republic of China published poetry collections are "cheering collection", "jewel of the red star", "on the cape", "colorful poems", "extraterritoriality", "snow lotus", "Ai Qing poetry" and so on.
Ai Qing has made a name for himself with his artful singing, practicing the aesthetics of his poetry, which is "plain, simple, concentrated, and clear".
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