Han Dong, who was active in the 1980s, is considered to be one of the most important representatives of “third-generation poetry”. In 1985, he organized the “Them Literature Club” and the literary publication “They” with poets such as Yu Jian and Ding Dang, aiming to challenge the representative publication of the obscure poetry school “Today” sponsored by Bei Dao, Munk and others. At that time, Han Dong put forward the revolutionary proposition of “Poetry Ends with Language”, emphasizing the importance of oral writing, which had a profound impact on the development of modern Chinese poetry. In 1988, he published the first collection of poems “The White Stone”. In addition to continuing to write poems, he also tried to create many novels. His masterpieces include the novel “Take Roots”, “You and Me”, “The Metamorphosis of an Educated Youth”, an anthology of poems “Dad Watching Me in the Sky”, “Being a New Man”, “Them”, etc. In addition, there is also a self-written and self-directed film and stage play. One.
The recently published “Miracle” is Han Dong’s latest collection of poems, most of which were written in the past two years, and some are older works from earlier, which were not revised until recently. Almost at the same time that “Miracle” was launched, Han Dong won the “Pioneer Poetry Award” in the first Poetry Award of Pioneer Bookstore. In an interview, he stated that “Miracle” is his most important collection of poems so far. This collection of poems directly and concretely touches on his life situation, reflecting his insistence on the concept of “poetry is the way of restraint”-the emotion in the work is full and saturated, but the expression is cold and restrained. In addition, Han Dong also made a meticulous arrangement for the entire collection of poems. The book contains several units, each with its own pertinence: “The White He” is dedicated to animals; “Poem of Tribute” is written to friends and those who need to pay tribute; “A family in a dream” writes about the family; “mourning” writes about the death and pays tribute to the deceased…
Love and death have always been the two most important themes in Han Dong’s poems. In “Miracles”, Han Dong describes trivial daily life in simple and concise language, and stands in the torrent of time to reflect on daily life and explore the meaning of life. In a poem titled “Time and Space”, he wrote: “From 40 to 60 years old, there will be 20 years of disappearance during this period.” It seems that he had spent the “knowing the destiny” in a daze. stage. However, during this period, many things make people have to be aware of the harshness of life, such as the death of relatives, the separation of friends, the isolation of loved ones…Some people can only appear in memories or dreams and enter another world. A passage of time, and this will redefine the lives and emotions of those who have not left.
Compared with previous works, Han Dong believes that the biggest difference in “Miracle” is that the subconscious has become conscious. “Some things are gradually clarified, including what I can write, what I want to write, and what I can’t get rid of. , Can not pass. It is not only a fate, but also like a leader (to take the next new task).” With the authorization of the publishing house, Interface Culture (ID: BooksAndFun) selects some poems from the book to enjoy the readers.
“miracle”
By Han Dong
Jiangsu Phoenix Literature and Art Publishing House, March 2021
Diary
There are two fluffy chicks on the table
A small bowl of Kung Fu tea was filled with water.
Who put this scene here
Let us see?
“Animals are so cute when they are young.”
Maybe the cuteness of the chicken has hurt our feelings.
We stand smoking in the yard
The light from the restaurant door spilled onto the table.
“Love is something that emerges spontaneously
We eat the one we love
When they were so cute. “
What I’m talking about here is not the same thing as the chicken.
A little chicken fell from the edge of the table to the ground
No one picked it up and put it back on the table.
The topic of love continues
“The separation of the cute and the cute is inevitable, like
Love and love must be separated
It is the test of life. “
In the darkness where the table legs are
The chicken is experiencing its test.
River water
Father ups and downs in the river
In the grass on the shore, I take care of his clothes
Watches and shoes.
Seven years before death
He just lay on the river to rest.
Noon that summer
Every day that summer.
Occasionally a peasant carrying a burden walks by
From now on there was only the sound of the river.
For a while, my father disappeared and drifted away with the crowd.
The empty river surface was dazzled by the sun
I remembered what he said
The surface of the water is hot, but the water is very cold.
Another time he was motionless
Like a piece of peeled wood
His clothes, watches and shoes lay on the shore.
No one passes by
I am not there either.
We can’t help but love mother
We can’t help but love mother
Especially after she died.
The pain and trouble are also over
You only need to wipe the glass on the frame.
Love is so clean, even nothing.
When she was alive, she was full of problems.
Our love for her has nothing
Or hidden.
Set the crisp picture on fire
Make a little firework.
We thought we could love a living mother
In fact, she loved us when she was alive.
The one who likes her is dead
He likes her, and she likes me.
The person who likes her died this year
She, I met once last year
It’s also old.
She went abroad for heart surgery a few years ago
Ask me on the phone
All the content was relayed by him on his behalf.
He was in good health at the time, but worried about her
Also unfair for myself
“Why doesn’t she entrust the child to me?”
Then I met her.
The operation was quite successful, but it could not cure aging.
“Now we can do as before
Playing cards is all night! “
I nodded but refused in my heart
There was no contact after this.
Don’t know if she knows about him
He was seriously ill and she did not show up at the later memorial service.
The one who likes her is dead
The rest is what she likes.
I won’t go back to the past with her
Play cards all night long.
Among the dear ones
Among the dear ones are the dead
They are always there.
No matter how far or near, always equal distance with me.
One category is people who leave.
It’s been a long time
Open this door and you can see:
The back figure is getting smaller and smaller, but it never disappears.
The third category is the isolated.
I walked closer to you, so close
But it must not be touched.
You will always be my dear one.
Wind blows the woods
The wind blows the woods, from side to side
There is a straight road in the middle.I am that
People who walk but almost stop moving.
The wind of time is blowing
But it was much slower, blowing into the future from the early years.
I don’t know where the boundary is in the middle
Maybe it’s where I stand now.
Thoughts meet each other, at the fastest speed
The gust of wind arrived.
I heard the woods ringing, and then the other side.
When the woods ahead resound
The woods where I was in stood still.
The straight road leads to a beautiful cemetery
The verdant picture emerged-I remembered it.
Thoughts pulled me hard in the opposite direction.
The wind blows the woods faster than time
Slower than thought.
Funeral home notes
Been there many times
But can’t write it well
There is a kind of avoidance in my heart
Not fear nor sadness
Just boring.
Everything becomes meaningless.
Everything is marble
Stick it on the wall or spread it on the ground.
The box is also a quality material of marble.
So solemn, but so shabby.
There is nothing in everything
Everything you see is not itself.
When i cried down the steps
I saw a woman crying
We look at each other in tears
It seems to be affectionate.
But this is just a misunderstanding.
She handed over a handkerchief-it was too much!
The handkerchief there is not a handkerchief
It’s just an ashes of fact.
Time and space
Forty to sixty
There was nowhere to go for twenty years during this period.
I can’t remember when I was fifty
What are you doing and what it looks like
There wasn’t even a sound of swooping past.
Woke up and arrived
The lanterns are in the early days, but the host and guest are old.That year
A friend of mine called me at a station outside
He was thrown off the train bound for the north.
I asked him where he was, place name or sign
He said he didn’t know.Looking around at the strange wilderness
Men and women, and maybe a country mule
He said again, only knowing that in the middle…
There was a whistle like a whistle on the phone
Crying desperately with friends.I said
Go home, you are over.
Even this happened when I was forty years old
He was in his thirties.
Selected Poems in This ArticlefromThe book “Miracle”,throughPublishing authorized by the publisher.Note writing/editing: Chen Jiajing, Without the authorization of “Interface Culture” (ID: BooksAndFun).Return to Sohu to see more
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