Writing Poems in a Funeral Home

004 Reading Poems 痖 String <Funeral Home>

Yanxian was a general of the modern poetry trend in Taiwan in the 1950s. In 1954, together with Luo Fu and Zhang Mo, he founded the "Genesis Poetry Society", and published the "Genesis Poetry Magazine" which is one of the most important poetry publications in the Chinese poetry world.

In this poem, titled "The Funeral Home," Yan Xian takes away the obscure, surreal style that was popular in the 1950s, and instead uses a storytelling tone to describe death. Poems with death as the theme are not uncommon (literature is inherently a diverse field), but if it can approach the pain with lightness, and describe the sadness with innocence, then it can write the rare among the common, bring forth the new and make a good song. poetry.

The identity of the speaker is evident from the first measure - he is clearly a dead man and a child. A boy growing a beard represents the luxuriant years of adolescence, but his life is just about to begin, but it has already been pruned for the last time. The girl who roams in the green grass can no longer enjoy the shower of sunshine, although there are still endless flowers on her neck at the moment.

We spend our whole life to explore the secrets of life, and children seem to have been able to find the tricks. And the answer is in that black long wooden box, but you can never come back and tell us what we saw. So you ask if tomorrow is spring or your birthday, so you still look forward to the scenery on the road, so you don't understand what the priests and nuns are wailing. You are still just a child. I almost forgot that you were still looking for your mother.

At first glance, the poem tells the story in a childlike tone, using only imagery to convey the atmosphere of death (church, shroud, Qingming Festival, etc.). After reading it over and over again, there is a strong sense of heaviness lingering.

Yanxian Funeral Home

Ghoul birds fly up from the back of the church flowers are strewn around our necks (why hasn't mom come yet)

The boys are doing their beards for the last time The girls are putting on their last rouge

The cane in my hand doesn't tap the earth, the light and shadow don't play with the glasses on the bridge of the nose, and the girls' purple handkerchiefs don't wrap the sweet strawberries on the outing (why didn't my mother come)

And "Simon" under the pillow
I'm too lazy to read it a second time. The secret of life is hidden in this dark long wooden box.

Is it spring tomorrow? Let's take a sedan chair and go to the cross road to see what scenery

Is it my birthday tomorrow? We wear such nice satin clothes. When the boat rolls to the Grandma Bridge, we can't help my heart beat.

And the ghouls flew up from the back of the church, the priests' organs were crying, what were the nuns grunting about (why didn't mom come)

The funny thing is that she said that she will plant a little poplar tree for me on the Qingming Festival next year.

Ahhh, what is squirming in the eye sockets, what are the maggots coming to join in the fun, and there are no tears to drink (why didn't my mother come)

January 24, forty-six years of the Republic of China

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