Older poets are more like gods, such as Homer, Dante, and even.

They live in a great era, or that era is great because they have them.

If their seats were dismantled, there would be only an empty palace left.

Who would just worship a building and ignore the idols inside? Their position is beyond doubt.

Everything beyond doubt has risen to the realm of God.

The older the poet, the easier it is to obtain worship, and there are few hostile forces.

They live among us like God, anxious or silent.

God cannot be surpassed, so it is difficult for us to go further beyond them.

Rather than symbolizing the highest faith, it has become the biggest obstacle.

All kinds of roadblocks affect our speed.

It’s easy to be an atheist.

That can at least be avoided: curling up in the shadow of giants like parasites.

A friend of mine once described the dead masters as “they are in my way.

” Yes, road signs sometimes get in the way, if you just surround it and don’t rush to get rid of it.

More important than overthrowing the statue is to eliminate your own inner superstition.

The older the poet, the more secrets he has (some of which are caused by time and space).

If you want to know them, you must first know the secrets they have.

In this way, you can respect them as gods and get along with them as mortals.

Thomas Carlyle believed that heroes as gods and heroes as prophets were the products of the old times, Dante and Shakespeare mark the emergence of heroes as poets: “We don’t take great people as God in terms of title, it’s only because our understanding of God, the supreme and unreachable source of glory, wisdom and heroism, is increasing.

it’s not because our reverence for God is declining.

” Ancient poets are both like gods and prophets, but they will gradually reveal more human nature in our reading.

Human nature is not necessarily inferior to divinity.

Even if the master walks down the altar, he will not weaken his brilliance at all, but it will help you and me get close to the height they occupy.

I know Virgil through Dante.

In the Divine Comedy, the great Roman poet and the beautiful beatrizzi served as Dante’s guides respectively, but one led him to hell and the other led him to heaven.

And hell is an indispensable place to heaven.

Dante lost his way in the Jackal forest, and suddenly a figure approached him.

“Are you a man or a ghost?” But Ding Zhan asked gingerly.

The vague figure replied in a clear voice, “I’m Virgil.

” I met an ancient poet I admired by chance, but dington felt that hell was not terrible.

Virgil accompanied Dante almost throughout his journey to hell.

Without Virgil’s guidance, Dante not only couldn’t get out of hell, I’m afraid he couldn’t find hell at the beginning – Divine Comedy will come to naught.

Why did Dante arrange Virgil as a guide to hell instead of or others? We know that Dante’s political ideal is “a unified Holy Roman Empire”.

He longed to restore his former glory, but in his mind, Virgil was not the emperor who could represent the glory of ancient Rome.

The poet is the symbol of history.

I guess this: If heaven predicts the future of mankind, hell is the shadow of history – hosting all the dead heroes, tyrants and gangsters.

No one will be deprived of their freedom.

Dante, like a prison visitor, visited Homer in ancient Greece, Horace and Ovid, the great poets in ancient Rome.

The first floor of hell, where the best light is to accommodate those late poets.

It is not surprising, therefore, that Virgil became a guide or a jailer.

For me, Dante is a very old poet, and Virgil is even older.

He is almost the same as a prehistoric poet.

I have never read his specific works (only know that he has written agricultural poetry and a Roman EPIC), but I am not unfamiliar with his image.

All this is only because Dante set up a grand seat for him in the divine comedy.

I adore Dante, and Virgil is the character Dante adores.

Can it be said that every poet has his own hell? On the threshold of hell, you will meet your favorite predecessor poet, who will become your spiritual guide.

There is not only eternal darkness in hell, but also the light that has passed away.

Poetry itself is a hell you can’t avoid.

Only after you walk through the dark corridor can you really be reborn.

People who don’t know hell can’t believe in heaven.

Where is my hell? Who will be my guide? Or who is the leader of all poets? Dante’s credit is that he painted an orderly map of the unknown hell.

Of course, he did it with the help of a guide.

Every poet will face the trap of time and hand in his own answer.

Like a miner, I mined myself from my heart – if there was a hell there.

In many cases, poetry is not flowers picked from heaven, but coal dug out of hell.

Dante was lucky to meet Virgil.

Who will I meet? Who is shovel my spade and everfount strength? Keats is a poet whose face I can’t see.

Reading classics, I can often imagine the image of the author (whether it is true or not), but this intuition failed in front of Keats.

Byron and Shelley, the English poets of Keats’ contemporaries, were beautiful, as if they were angels.

Earlier, burns also had a typical Scottish facial contour and sang “my heart is on the plateau”.

Keats alone had a vague face and was permanently shrouded in the shadow of leaves.

I know he was born poor, suffered from lung disease at a young age, and died at the age of 26, which is easy to be forgotten.

As his epitaph says, “there is a poet buried here whose name is written on the water.

” Speaking of Keats, the first thing I think of is not himself, but a Nightingale – the one he listened to in Hampstead’s garden in April 1819.

Because of the thick night and dense branches and leaves, he onlyHearing the Nightingale’s voice (as if it came from the invisible air), it is associated with the impermanence of its own destiny.

“Ode to the Nightingale” came into being.

Just three years later, Keats disappeared like the Nightingale he chanted, leaving only a faint song.

He completely disappeared into his sad song.

Keats, like a Nightingale, has a short life span and a short singing career.

In the field of poetry, Nightingale gradually became the embodiment of Keats.

At least Borges thinks so.

He wrote a special article “Keats’ Nightingale”: “countless nightingales have sung in British literature, Chaucer and Shakespeare praise it, Milton and Arnold praise it, but we are destined to combine its image with Keats, just as the tiger is combined with black.

” American poetess Amy Lowell said more definitely: “the reader immediately got the imagination or poetic spark, and felt that Keats wrote not the Nightingale singing there at present, but the whole kind of Nightingale.

” In creation, it is also a great way to replace the subject with the object and replace itself with the lyric object.

Such a poet should be proficient in invisibility.

Just like Keats: forget your life experience and focus on the fate of nightingales.

The same is true for readers.

For example, I can’t see Keats’s face clearly, but I remember the Nightingale he praised and the masked song.

Such a situation also happened to ancient Chinese philosophers.

He developed feelings for butterflies.

Zhuangzi’s dislocation with butterfly has also been highly praised by Borges: “About twenty-four centuries ago, Zhuang Zhou dreamed that he was a butterfly.

He didn’t know whether when he woke up, he was a person who once dreamed that he was a butterfly, or a butterfly who now dreams that he was a person.

Zhuang Zhou dreamed that he was a butterfly.

In that dream, he was not Zhuang Zhou, but a butterfly.

If space and self were cancelled, we How to connect these moments with his awakening and the feudal period of Chinese history? ” In my mind, Chuang Tzu always looks like he is floating in his clothes (he can be called as floating in the air), but his face is as vague or ambiguous as Keats.

At least I dare not guess randomly, for fear that if I am not careful, I will imagine him as an immortal.

That’s too bad for him.

But when I see butterflies dancing occasionally, I will subconsciously think of Zhuang Zi’s sleeves.

Zhuang Zi is also a great poet.

He wrote a wordless poem with the famous butterfly dream.

As for his philosophy, sometimes it is very poetic, sometimes it is very casual.

In particular, the article “free travel” can be regarded as a prose poem with mythological color.

Zhuangzi’s singing period, in the west, is roughly the era of the prosperity of Greek tragedy.

The three tragic poets are Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides.

Pei Duofei also praised the Nightingale, but not in his poem, but when he courted a beautiful woman for a poetry friend.

He told the beautiful woman: poets are nightingales, distressed nightingales, torture it, so that it can sing a beautiful and distressed song.

It is estimated that he himself has a deep understanding: the more suffering and suffering, the more urgent the inspiration will be to find a breakthrough.

Every poet has a sleeping volcano in his heart, which must be shaken and beaten constantly to force it to wake up.

Poets seem to be masochists, masochists of life and love.

Only when the whip of fate is continuously whipped, can they rotate like a top.

While attacking him, you are actually giving him special strength.

So let’s ignore his begging for mercy and groaning for the time being.

The poet is the child who is most afraid of pain, but he can’t live without pain – when he is numb, he is no different from death.

A heart without waves is no better than a pool of stagnant water.

Pain is the most effective poison, which will make his cocoon inspiration produce beautiful transformation.

The Nightingale also has inertia and slowness.

Only in one case can it sing continuously, that is, when it cries pain because of suffering.

The same is true of a poet who covers his wound with his hand.

If there is a kind of music about pain, it is moaning.

Moaning reduces the pain of the player (which is why it is repeated), but it increases the pain in our hearing.

In other words, moaning makes pain no longer a personal thing, but a successful transfer.

In some people, moaning is a symbol of vulnerability.

In others, it is precisely the expression of their strong vitality – he relies on this way to infect the whole dull world.

Pei Duofei’s “Nightingale theory” has a cruel beauty.

This is how fate trains poets, big and small.

Like nightingales, they are long-term workers suffering in the auditory world.

But there is a premise: even the increasing pain can not exceed the endurance of a poet.

Otherwise, more people will die of heartbreak, and the tenacious strings will pop.

There are only two periods of silence in a poet’s life: when there is no pain at all and when pain overwhelms his will.

In contrast, China’s Yu Dafu is considerate of himself and others.

When he fell in love with Wang Yingxia, he wrote a poem: “I used to whip a famous horse because of drunkenness.

I’m afraid I’m tired of beauty.

” It takes courage to listen to the distressed song of the nightingale.

I’m afraid even it will be softened.

Like a potbellied Pope.

To me, he is far less kind.

Pushkin gives the impression of the sun god, but his light is not dazzling at all – after all, it still belongs to the glory of human nature.

The Pope is used to condescending, and sometimes God is equal – on an equal footing with his readers.

These two great poets in Western and Eastern Europe are famous for their poetic narrative works (Faust and Eugene Onegin) in addition to their lyricism.

Their fictional characters have their own shadows.

Faust is a little “fake empty”.

For a while, he became sworn brothers with the devil, and for a while, he became the “Star chaser” of ancient Greek beauty Helen (in fact, it’s just Acacia).

Just like Goethe himself, he lived in his 80s and looked like a playboy.

As for Eugene Onegin, although he belongs to the famous “superfluous man”, he has flesh and blood and is still not superfluous at all.

A search of Goethe’s archives reveals that when he became famous for the troubles of Young Werther, it coincided with the first romantic movement in the history of German Literature (the so-called “frenzy”)The rise of the “progressive movement” – it can be seen that he started with a movement.

It doesn’t matter, but his position swayed from side to side and later converted to classicism.

The first half of his life and the second half of his life have the meaning of “rebelling first and then being recruited”.

If a master doesn’t have a firm position, his authenticity is doubtful – is it related to his heavy sense of fame and wealth? In comparison, Pushkin is more like a man of temperament, otherwise he would not have died in a duel in anger.

Goethe would take off his hat and give way when he met the king.

Such a person would certainly dare not duel with any political or emotional enemy.

I grew up reading their poems.

With my own maturity, I find Goethe’s vanity more and more (it is estimated that he will not give up his laurel all his life) and admire Pushkin’s simplicity more (he has a hot heart of a child).

Goethe will take a detour when he meets hell, while Pushkin may have the courage to plunge into the abyss.

I’m still thinking about a question: will masters be out of date? Goethe is like an outdated idol in my eyes.

But even for an atheist like me, Pushkin is always an angry Sun God.

He has never gilded his image or disdained to paint the world.

The strength of his confrontation with the Czar is somewhat similar to that of our country – “the emperor calls and can’t get on the ship”.

Pushkin is the sun of Russian poetry, and Li Bai is also the sun of Chinese poetry.

The sun will not bow to the kingship of the world.

Pushkin did not sing an ode to the czar.

His “to the prisoners of Siberia” was written for the exiled December party.

No matter how great Goethe was, he was just an excellent court poet.

Pushkin and lemontov represent the “golden age” of Russian Poetry (1810-1830).

After more than half a century of silence, in the revived “Silver Age” (1890-1925), the number and quality of poets have been greatly improved: Blok, yesenin, Mayakovsky, mandelsttam, Akhmatova, Pasternak, tsvitaeva.

They are not Pushkin’s disciples and grandchildren, but created a new era, Belong to their own era.

Pushkin made one necklace with gold and another with silver, around the neck of Russia at the turn of the new and old centuries.

This is not only decorative, they also torture their hearts with the help of this chain – the philosophical meaning in poetry is stronger, and the outline of the poet as a thinker is clearer.

The transformation of perceptual necklace into rational Necklace certainly requires more enthusiastic fire and more cruel tempering.

Poets also need a sense of suffering and an inner excavation.

It can be said that their attention has shifted from the objective world to the subjective world.

From the “golden age” to the “Silver Age”, has the spirit of Russian poetry expanded or contracted? Anyway, I read a lot of tense poems and gradually understood the serious and introverted poets.

In my eyes, tense poetry is a kind of progress, a kind of difficult progress, after all, compared with relaxed poetry.

Poetry, the more nervous the better, the more nervous the more careful.

In a sense, it marks the prudence of creative attitude, or prudence.

If Mayakovsky is an unfortunate lucky man, mandelstamm is purely an exile of fate.

He spent almost the rest of his life in arrest, imprisonment and uninterrupted exile.

In the small town of cherden on the upper Kama River in the northern Ural region, he tried to jump from a building to commit suicide and broke his arm (even death was teasing him).

In 1938, he was sentenced to another five years’ imprisonment and was directly escorted from the chelusgi mental hospital to the Far East.

As a result, he died in the concentration camp before the end of his sentence – even the place of his burial was lost.

Apart from leaving a pile of scribbled poems, the poet didn’t even leave a tombstone, and even his works have been classified as cold officials for a long time.

As a result, some critics call him a “familiar stranger”, but this sense of strangeness is not deliberately created by him.

People always think that Van Gogh is the most unfortunate artist.

In fact, compared with mandelstamm, Van Gogh at least has personal freedom.

Mandelstamm was unwilling to be exiled, but he had to accept the reality of being exiled again and again.

If there is a poet who struggled in hell before his death, it undoubtedly refers to mandelstamm.

The hardships of life made him almost no longer afraid of the real hell.

Unfortunately, hell once shut him out and didn’t give him the escape and liberation he expected.

Brotsky wrote a “civilized child” for mandelstamm: “in this century, he may be more qualified than anyone to be called a civilized poet.

” However, it was this poet who loved civilization most and suffered the most savage blow.

He became a master in the concentration camp.

Mandelstamm wrote a poem at the age of 18: “I have been given a body.

What can I do to face this only body that belongs to me? For the sake of breathing and the quiet joy of life, who should I thank? I am both a gardener and a flower.

I am not alone in the prison of the world.

” He seemed to have unconsciously predicted his life.

Reading mandelstamm’s poems, I couldn’t restrain a feeling of heartache, but there was nothing I could do.

If there is God, God will also feel heartache.

Is God equally powerless? If there is indeed a poetic hell, when I knock on the door, the first thing I want to meet is mandelstamm, the poet who has been smelted in the double hell.

In front of him, the so-called misfortunes I have endured in the world will look like happiness.

Reading his poems, I saw an abyss with cracked lips – there is an unknown world in it.

“Man is a reed that can think.

“—— This is the most wonderful sentence Pascal said in his life.

The original text in his thought record should be more detailed: “Thought forms the greatness of man.

Man is just a reed, the most fragile thing in nature, but he is a reed that can think.

It is not necessary for the whole universe to take up arms to destroy it.

One breath and a drop of water are enough to kill him.

However, even if the universe destroys him, man is still much more noble than the thing that killed him, because he knows what he wants Death, and the advantages the universe has over him, and the universe knows nothing about it.

” In particular, he stressed: “all of usDignity lies in thought.

” I understand this: people (including thinkers as human elites) will die, but ideas will not die.

Thought is similar to the so-called soul in theology.

It is a spirit stronger than any substance.

Spirit frees us from matter and can still exist independently.

Pascal’s thought record is not a book in the strict sense.

It records some scattered thoughts during his life.

After his death, the monastery of Boer Royal in France published this series of notes under the title of “Mr.

Pascal’s Thoughts on religion and other topics” in 1670, and later determined the title of the book “thoughts”.

It seems that the monastery can also cultivate one or two thinkers, such as Pascal, who claims to be a reed leaf.

I regard his thought record as a suicide note written by a monk to the world.

Of course, he was a rebellious monk.

For example, his “letter to a mainlander” (a total of 18), quite critical of the Jesuit Church.

Is he practicing another kind of Tao? A kind of humanity.

So after his death, although he enjoyed the laurels of scientist, thinker and so on, he was still a poet in essence, even if only because he left such a poetic sentence.

How did he think of using mediocre reed leaves as a metaphor for people, and make the reed leaves heavy with thought? Just because a tiny reed leaf is found, nature becomes a broad background.

Pascal came up with this lightsome metaphor, which made many poets in the world weightless.

It can be seen that life without thought is more terrible than life without poetry.

Thought is the most fundamental poetry.

A thinker like Pascal can be called a poet among poets.

Since you are always so lonely, you might as well go crazy – maybe you can live happier as a madman.

After resigning at the age of 35 due to illness, he wandered in a foreign land for ten years.

Finally, he had a mental attack.

What kind of process is this? Let’s look at his self-condition in Ode to Dionysus: “for ten years – no drop of water has fallen on me, no refreshing wind, no dew of love – a land without rain.

I beg my wisdom not to become stingy in this drought: I overflow, I dew, and I make the rain on the scorched wilderness!” However, it only doubled his hunger and thirst.

Nietzsche’s chapped lips whispered the most fanatical poems of his life.

We hardly believe that this delirious tramp is the philosopher who solemnly declared “God is dead”.

Maybe God did die, and Nietzsche became his first abandoned child.

In January 1889, Nietzsche’s friend ovibeck came to Turin, Italy, and took the dancing madman back to his motherland.

It is said that on his way back to his hometown, Nietzsche also wrote poems impromptu, which startled the surrounding audience.

They can’t figure out what the madman thinks.

Nietzsche as a philosopher and Nietzsche as a poet actually coincide.

More precisely, Nietzsche started his philosophical thinking from the standpoint of a poet.

Kaufman said: “in the evolution of existentialism, Nietzsche occupies the central position.

without Nietzsche, Jaspers, Heidegger and Sartre are incredible, and the conclusion of Camus’s Sisyphus myth also sounds like Nietzsche’s distant echo.

” It’s just that Sisyphus, who pushes the big stone of philosophy up the mountain, is crazy.

His actions were mistaken by the world as irrational.

Of course, if Nietzsche didn’t go crazy in the end, the unsystematic philosophical thought he had produced before would appear to be lack of logic.

We must understand Nietzsche in a crazy context.

The philosopher Santayana wrote an article “trying to explain poetry and religion” in 1900: “religion and poetry are essentially the same, but the difference lies in their relationship with actual things.

When poetry interferes with life, it is called religion, and when religion is only attached to life, it is poetry.

” I would like to add that religion is the action of an ideal, and poetry is always just an ideal in action – a bad check that does not need to be cashed.

Of course, it’s hard to say which belief is purer.

Monks regard the dome of the church as the sky of truth, while poets regard the sky as an invisible church.

In other words, every poet has a dark room of repentance in his heart.

He is his own priest.

It can be seen that poetry does not need any form than religion.

Eliot is said to be a disciple of Santayana.

Eliot claimed: “politically, I am a royalist.

religiously, I am an English Catholic.

and in literature, I am a classicist.

” The three are actually unified.

Rather than looking forward to the revival of religion all his life, he looked forward to Literature entering a holy land.

Fundamentally speaking, he is also a poet.

His wasteland, Four Quartets and so on are the combination of poetry and divinity.

Under the heavy Taoist robe, there is a sensitive heart hidden.

“April is the cruelest season”, which is the sentence that impressed me most in the long poem wasteland.

I seemed to see Eliot struggling to hold up a calendar card with scarlet letters, like lifting up his clothes to reveal his wound.

Why did he choose April to start his confession? Or maybe April chose a poet to speak instead of himself? The value of wasteland is that it creates an ancient desolation – it seems to have been abandoned by God from the beginning.

The absence of God proves the existence of God, The weightless wasteland proves the importance of God.

Heine, a German poet, wrote a journey to mount haltz in 1826: “The mountain god is obviously kind to me.

He probably knows that such a poet can repeat many wonderful things.

He asked me to see his haltz mountain that not everyone can see this morning.

But haltz mountain also looked at me that only a few people have seen.

Pearls twinkle in my eyelashes, which are as precious as those in the valley grass.

” After reading this paragraph, guess what I thought? I thought of Chinese words and sentences: “I see how charming green mountains are, and I expect green mountains to see me too.

” Unfortunately, I don’t know which famous mountain in the south this is written for.

Two poets from different countries and times have surprisingly similar ideas in the face of different mountains.

I almost doubt that they have the same soul.

In other words, the mountain god gave them the same inspiration.

Such a poem cannot be written by ordinary mountaineers.

In this sense, poets are more like belonging to the same nation — it’s a kind of blood.

One year when I climbed Mount Tai, I thought of Heine and Xin Qiji.

They have very different backgrounds, have no language, and even don’t know each other.

When facing nature, they seem to repeat one after another – repeat others and repeat themselves.

What poets have repeated should be regarded as truth? Perhaps, the so-called beauty is not innate, but the result of repeated chanting by poets at all times, at home and abroad.

Is the spirit of mountains interlinked? Or is the poet’s soul interlinked? It’s time to be proud of yourself and your predecessors.

In his youth, Russian Symbolist poet breusov often thought about “how to become a poet”.

In an 1897 diary, he answered with a legendary Imagination: “the poet needs a regeneration.

He needs to meet an angel at the intersection.

The angel will cut open his chest with a sharp sword and put a piece of flaming coal to replace his heart.

Before all this has not been realized, trek in the silent desert.

” These words once deeply moved me in my youth.

I also look forward to meeting such an angel, and she will perform a heart exchange operation for me.

I hope ye saining and others’ faces have been lit up in my chest.

After so many years, I am still me.

My heart is still calm and excited.

I begin to accept its mediocrity.

After all, some of my own poems often flow from it.

Even if they are as dark as a lantern in the wind and rain, I can distinguish the uncontrollable heartbeat.

Let alone a piece of coal, even if we replace it with oil, alcohol or atomic bomb, what can have a steady stream of light and heat more lasting than our real heart? Different from all kinds of fuels, our heart can not only emit energy, but also store energy.

It is a storage battery with memory.

I don’t want to trade it for anything anymore.

A fleshy heart can also create a poet full of human nature.

Pound wrote a two line poem called the Greek proverb: “when I am tired of praising the dawn and sunset, please don’t include me in the ranks of immortals.

” Dawn and sunset occur every day and are immortal in themselves.

Similarly, many poets become immortal by praising immortal things.

However, pound seems to be tired of all this and tries to get out of this sacred queue, because for him, eternity is meaningless.

I think of Pushkin, who was a century earlier than pound.

He pursued eternity.

The poem “monument” expresses the poet’s ideal and desire for immortality: “I have built a monument for myself that can not be made by man.

I will not die completely – my soul will live longer than my ashes in precious poetry and escape corruption and destruction – I will always be honored until there is only one poet living in the world under the moonlight.

” It should be said that he succeeded.

If we only understand immortality as honor, such immortality is actually very fragile.

Unfortunately, many poets understand it in this way.

From Pushkin to pound, poets have changed.

They no longer devote themselves to immortality and abandon their bodies to become monuments.

Is this progress or retrogression? I appreciate Pound’s realm more: after all, the poet is more like a mortal.

As for the so-called immortality, it is just a self deception.

When you pursue eternity, eternity will lose its meaning and you will lose yourself.

Just like pound, be a soldier outside the playground.