Chen Nianxi: When you shouted to the sky, there was no dust and smoke in it
The poems written by the workers who went from the countryside to the city, engaged in the lowest level and even some safety hazards, also described the dust and smoke that could not be avoided in their work, but their poetry without exception surpassed the dust and smoke.
Chen Xinian's poems were written by blasting miner Chen Xinian, as an authentic Guanzhong person in Shaanxi, as a miner who entered the city to do it with the sound of explosions, the author wrote in the preface: "If a person uses ten years as a scale in his life, the mine and the city drifting in Sihou just occupy two scales, ten years in the barren wilderness, ten years in the kilometer underground and urban and rural", the author's resume is simple and heavy at the same time: from entering the mine in 1999 to unemployment with pneumoconiosis in 2020, it is a full twenty-one years. "The world is barren and the body is full of dust. ”
The poems written by people with such life experiences must be more rusty and darker than the steel under their hands, and more sad than the difficulties of life, but when I opened this collection of poems, I didn't complain, I only saw gratitude to the poem itself, just like the title page said, "These years are like a fluttering canopy, except for a lamp, a heavy snow, only poetry accepts me." ”
For the huge world, there is no one who does not chase the heavy snow all his life, and there is no one who does not have frost all his life" The author claims that this is the background color of his poetry, so all the poems in the book avoid the roaring machines, the deafening explosions, and the dirty overalls and the scarred body of the routine. It is an elegy, "Save the sunset, the cold sound of the lonely night, the big river, and every little grass." "I don't say anything about the cramped life.
Seeing the dust and smoke every day, he also shouted at the sky to fate, but the end of the pen flowed, there was no dust and smoke, and it was all gentle.
The People Who Bask in the Sun": "The people who bask in the sun have been exposed to the sun They smoke cigarettes and gossip to each other and talk about the things of life and after death They talk about the things of the world In the final analysis, they are all human affairs", life in the mine cannot be ambitious and think, because the mine does not allow for ambition and thinking: when the fire appears, you have no time to think, you have to do the next step;At the moment of the explosion, I couldn't think about anything but bear it. But once he left that venue, Chen Xinian's heart was resurrected from the cold steel, he thought about personnel, he didn't feel lonely, he felt as if he was also a member of the sun, telling himself and others, in the gossip, there were only people, and there was no difference between blasting and non-blasting.
The poems that embody this kind of detachment from the ego and objectively examine the fate of others also include "How Slow the Inner Is Easier": Writing that in the cold season, I took my sister to fish on the Gorge River, and the imaginary harvest, but the reality is "the hunger in the belly", the camera turned, "Today, my lover's birthday ** In this life, she will never be forty-four years old again", whether the sister in the countryside in the past entered the city like her brother is unknown, but unlike the sound of the city and traffic, it feels like her sister is still there" It seems that one still represents the ancient and the other represents the modern, but as the author's lover, even if he has a cake, he has fallen into another fate: after enjoying the dessert made by modern technology, he will never be forty-four years old.
sighing and sighing, the barriers of time, space and geography have never made people's fates any different.
Writing about common laws and describing his own specific life, but the author only presents, only thinks, and does not complain.
I got married in 1997 I learned to smoke and drink in 2003 I was deaf in my right ear in 2013 Nowadays, I occasionally spend my spare nights writing That's all I can remember and tell you", the treatment of blasters, according to common sense, is impossible to be rich, even if the place where the author does the blasting is a first-tier big city, it will be alienated from the glamorous and high-end because of his identity, smoking and drinking may be their only mental anesthesia blocked by modern happiness, and the nicotine that swallows has become a temporary creed All health initiatives do not need to be advised. The sentence "That's all I can remember" is an understatement, and I don't see a trace of negative emotion.
The author seems to have lived in Beijing for a while, but his impression of Beijing is "my friend, a skinny woman, she rode a Lima brand electric car to pick me up, from Dongdan to Xidan, wearing a beige windbreaker, and sandwiching a fresh cabbage on the shelf" Houhai, Bird's Nest, and Wangfujing seem to have little to do with him, and welcoming a cabbage is his life. This kind of emotion, but it only melts into a neutral scene, and other than that, there is no rendering.
If the individual is humble, grandeur is just a wind and moon that cannot be touched. Flowing water does not rot, rivers and mountains are hard to live in the big world in the author's heart, and daily life, sometimes just when the iron bursts, the throat can't help but shout to the sky, but the shout, as well as the explosion, is still gentle.
Chen Xinian traveled to various places to work, and he was a person who had walked and seen along the way. In his eyes, "the loess is so upright" and "the long-waiting pick-up person, because the ruins of fate are more real than the flowers in his arms." Here, the author only wrote about the station person, hiding the station person, the fate of the station person is like a ruin, so that the flowers are reduced to the hypocrisy of moaning without disease, then, what about the station person, although it is not said, but how many people who have walked through the pass, it is the station person, they also passed by how many boundary monuments symbolizing the border, harvested a stubble of the green train ticket stubble, the author after the tent and servant wind and dust, but still loves the "loess fall." Whether it is the people who come and go from the station, or the diners who fish in the countryside and the city, people are destined to return to silence and pay in a pinch of loess, a barren grave. Human life is the same, and the body is the same mountain. Glory and downfall, can not escape the arrangement of flowing water, the passage of fate has a version, but they are more real than simple and beautiful flowers. What is valuable is that the author does not feel that he is lonely and abandoned, and he feels that everyone may be the person who picks up the station, because no one can be separated from the loess.
The poet did not care about the three thousand dynasties, and took such a long and ancient as an introduction, in order to feel the explosion of "a river of fine industrial wastewater" in people's careers, after the explosion, a place of ashes fell, and a place of silver, and the author's poem ** "A pine tree" is just a witness to all this. The scrap metal that the poet deals with every day comes from an unknown mine, and has been ...... by explosives blasting, machine crushing, and high temperature and cooling of the assembly lineThese are the curses that linger in the author's heart. Corn is harvested with a sickle in the countryside. "Eighteen years old, he was twenty-eight years old in Chang'an, he was thirty-eight years old in Mobei, he was forty-eight years old in Karakoram, his lungs were full of dust", in his long life, several interception points were based on ten years as an axis, rolling out the life that was passed by fate and the final sorrow. However, this faint sorrow is implicit, not deliberately declared, and is always simply presented. It is said that Chen Xinian, who suffered from pneumoconiosis, finally bid farewell to the mine because of his writing talent and became a writer sitting in the office, but the fire, thunder and lightning in the first half of his life, and the dust and smoke rolling, were engraved into his body and memory like DNA, and this, resorting to poetry, is still restrained.
Literature, sometimes it can save a man, steel, and sometimes the original intention is the same, though far less gentle than the former. If you don't succeed, you will have a big river in your heart, hold the starry sky, and flow into the real life of flowers. If there is hope for life, in the shouting of the sky after the explosion, in addition to the struggle for survival, there can also be tenderness beyond the dust.