There is such a continuous parallel prose in one of Xu Zhimo's poems, which roughly means that if you want to explore one thing, you must look at the opposite thing.

2. Debris

If you want real peace, you must go to the bottom of the storm; You want truth.

Harmony means going to the bottom of chaos;

If you want to be truly safe, you must go to the chaos and hysteria of the Great Revolution.

If you want real happiness, you must taste real pain;

If you want to be true, you must realize it in the real emptiness;

If you want a real life, you must visit in the most dangerous direction;

If you want a real heaven, you must go to hell;

This direction is me.

Whole poem:

one

Night, all-inclusive night, I praise you!

At night, now everything is like a plump baby, gentle in your big mother.

Sleep in your arms.

A day is just a tightly closed dark cloud, like a tent in the wild, silent,

Silence;

There are only a few faint flashes on the river, and there are long-stemmed aquatic plants on the bridge.

There are a few drunken fresh fish floating on the dark water, which makes people wary.

Lazy wicker flutters on their shoulders and tails;

On the other side of the ranch, the screen is surrounded by dark blue elm trees, gloomy, like

An empty grave; What's the light behind the tree over there?

I am wandering in this quiet state, listening attentively, ... listening.

I can't recognize the nocturne in the green forest, the conversation in the He Kanghe River and the birds.

The sound of wings flying;

But in this quiet temperature, I hear the silence of the universe and the pulse of the night.

Beating and breathing, listening to the traces of countless hurried dreams;

I also heard my own fantasy and felt the mysterious impulse and moved.

He has been studying for a long time, ready to fly out of his boring nest and fly out of here.

Silent environment, to search.

Miracles at night, looking for more mysterious secrets-

Listen, he rustled out of the clouds!

two

At the seaside, I will hug Ann like a loving mother at night.

Full of fun;

The waves are just sleepy, just languid and drowned in the empty beach.

It's like little novice monk playing his night bell in a daze. It's just like a mold.

The sound of paste.

In front of the rock over there stood a huge shadow-a man.

Really?

A long hair, scattered on the shoulders, quivered in the breeze;

His shoulders are thin and long, and they are raised towards the infinite sky.

——

He seems to be praying and crying-

Yes, crying-

The waves are still slowly advancing—

Look, aren't those his tears?

A teardrop like a star falls on the empty sea sand and fatigue.

Lazy waves fall on the heart of the sleeping ocean and at the feet of the night.

Edge-a star-like tear!

A god, strong tears, like fermented wine, exploded.

Ignition, lightning electrons;

He awakened the sea, the sky, the night and the waves.

What a great revolution-

In an instant, the cloud curtain was torn open and the dense fog dispersed.

In the pure blue sky, a reunion moon appeared again.

A mighty westerly wind swept the strings of Dabao. At first, it was great.

Music.

The sea saw the smile of the moonlight, heard the roar of the wind, and woke up like the first one.

Liger, rocking and growling-

Instantly loud, instantly rampant!

Good Night! How many tears have you seen like stars?

three

To the city that never sleeps in the twentieth century.

Night, this is your rebellion, this is an advertisement of bad customs and civilization, shameless,

Lustful, cruel and dirty-on the surface, they are the same.

Listen, the dance is over,

The party was over, and there was a fat Judas in the tall building.

Is raping his bride;

At the corner of the street over there, two Hercules caught a passerby.

Cut his throat with a knife and take out his wallet in one hand;

Outside the hotel over there, a group of drunks are gathering, stumbling and swearing.

Crazy singing sounds like a blunt knife scraping the bottom of the pot-

Fantasy can't bear to wait and see, and quickly fly to the pure realm.

Let's go

Flying over the sea, flying over the mountains, flying back for more than a hundred years-

He arrived at the hometown of lake poets.

What a sunny night! Only faint starlight danced on the chest of the lake, three or four.

A grass bug calls the night;

The surrounding peaks put a broad figure in Gracimiarou's house.

Soft lake, sleeping;

The "pigeon mountain" over there gives off a few rays of oil lamp light, which is oblique.

On the hedge in front of the village;

Listen, that's not the tone of sin Weng's poem-

Poets who make us heirs.

Truth is pure happiness like heaven!

Oh! Maybe my name will appear among them,

Grady will end my mortal days!

The poet explained the spirit of nature,

Wonderful and poetic, the Soviets love to be sleepy!

A poet who is not jealous of wealth but pursues it,

I gave up my life, and I failed my life.

I will leave the dust without regrets and return to infinity.

Although his voice is not loud, it rhymes smoothly, which proves his broad-minded feelings.

All the notes became active Mars, flying out of the window lattice.

Come out! Fly to the sky, like a string of kite lights, with a clear blue sky, fall down.

According to the wave, the lingering sound startled the birds in the forest and sang,

Sigh.

Then there was a crisp voice, not his sister Dorothy (3)

what's up

Ah, it turns out that Coleridge (4), a new smoker, is also there.

His family are guests, and the three of them are sitting in Pass's guest room, by the fireplace.

In the front oven, the chestnut firewood they split in the garden in the morning is burning.

Clap your hands, the kettle on the hob has been opened, before.

Voice:

Sit without feeling, hope or purpose.

By my lovely campfire,

Listen to the beating of the flame.

Or the kettle makes a faint whisper,

Sitting in front of the lovely dying fire,

No emotion, no hope, no camp,

Listen, but listen to the flame, the slight vibration,

Listen to the boiling of the kettle and natural music.

At night, how much did you insure for such a rare commemoration? ...

four

He left the poet's villa again, flew out of the lake and repeated his steps.

Hundreds of years ago, the surging tide reached Heidelberg.

A dance competition.

The magnificent ochre palace castle is immersed in dazzling silver waves, and the mountain is

The Nubis River has been quietly advancing.

The castle has just danced in the cheers of wine, and the giant dwarf has been tonight

I drank the sixty-third bottle of beer and clamored for the barbecue in the chef.

The whole cow attracted a full court of male guests wearing wigs and female guests with long skirts.

A burst of laughter.

In laughter, fantasy slipped back into a coma that I had not known for decades.

At night-

In front of my eyes, I saw smoke everywhere, and the mountains in Banansus were lit into a light.

Skyfire screen,

Hear distant voices, simple and strong voices,-

"Aga Meng Long (5) defeated Qu Xuan (6) and regained Helen (7).

Now I return to Athens triumphantly,

Greek people, come and cheer! ——

Aga Meng Long, king of kings! "

This sound will blow my fantasy wings back to more countless reasons.

Ten days later, in an older night, in front of a big cave;

A group of men and women, old and young, aborigines with waistlines, skin or leaves,

Squatting in front of a pile of firewood, roasting large pieces of animal meat. Cruel

Fierce sparks, with strong bodies, are dark and hairy in Guizhou.

Skin—

This is the swaying period of human civilization.

Night, you are our old wet nurse!

five

Finally, it flew out of the air and out of the jam of time and space.

At present, it is a grand view of the universe!

Millions of suns, big and small, red and yellow, like flowers and bamboo.

Excited at infinity, spinning-

But what about the human earth?

A sea of stars and sand, but where can I find it?

No, he is lost!

Night, where are you?

Guangming, where are you?

six

"Don't be afraid, there is me in front." A voice said.

"Who are you?"

"Don't ask, follow me can't be wrong. I am the center of the universe,

I am the source of light, I am the sacred impulse, I am life.

Life, I am the guide of poetic soul; Don't worry, would you like to go with me?

Wrong. "

"I don't know you."

"You already know me! In front of my eyes, the sun, vegetation, stars,

The moon, shells, birds and animals, all kinds of people and insects are all compatriots.

They all get their lives from me and are protected by me. I am the sun.

Sun, eternal flame;

Just listen to my instructions and don't be suspicious. I told you to go up the hill, but you didn't.

Fear of danger; I teach you to enter the water, don't be afraid of drowning; I'll teach you to dance the flame dance,

Don't be afraid of burning; When I tell you to come with me, don't ask me who I am.

I'm not here; I wasn't there either, but I was everywhere.

If everything is empty and illusory, I am the eternal truth and

Reality;

You have just crossed the night, and you have seen many of his treasures.

Secret.-You just passed the seaside, didn' t you see it

Tears like stars? That is me.

If you want real peace, you must go to the bottom of the storm; You want truth.

Harmony means going to the bottom of chaos;

If you want to be truly safe, you must go to the chaos and hysteria of the Great Revolution.

If you want real happiness, you must taste real pain;

If you want to be true, you must realize it in the real emptiness;

If you want a real life, you must visit in the most dangerous direction;

If you want a real heaven, you must go to hell;

This direction is me.

These are my words, my lessons and my revelations;

I now lead you back to the starting point of your curiosity and arouse your interest.

At night;

You see, this is not a green meadow. Isn't this a gentle He Kang? May you

Stop being paranoid and listen to me. You can't go wrong-I will always be.

Around you.

1Cambridge in July, 922

(1) written in1July, 922, published in1February, 923, the Morning News Literature Journal, edited after the original poem.

The author's postscript: "This long poem of Zhimo really created a new pattern and art, please pay attention!"

(2) refers to the famous British lake poet Wordsworth.

Wordsworth's sister, translated as Dorothy.

(4) English Lake Poet Coleridge.

⑤ Now translated into Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae in Greek mythology. Launched the Trojan War. late

Commander of the Greek Coalition forces.

6 now translated as Troy. For the ancient town of Asia Minor.

⑦ The beauty in Greek mythology was deceived by the Prince of Troy and finally recaptured by Agamemnon.