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| 2016/06/01 14:35:36瀏覽748｜回應1｜推薦49 | |
詩花盛開，多彩繽紛 ——「盛開的詩花」序 許其正 從 50年，人生有多少個50年？ 我是1939年出生的，到今年已72歲有餘了。我在兩年前即70歲時，曾寫過一首詩，題為「以70為春」，期勉自己，正是不少人所說的「人生70才開始」之意。我把我的詩在這時集結為詩選，除作個階段性的精選總結，豎立為石碑，讀者一定可以想像得到，正是希望以這石碑作為起點，再次開步走——至少得繼續前進。 我在故鄉潮州南郊的一個不到10戶人家的小農村出生長大，從小便出入鄉間田園，接受鄉間田園的薰陶，從事農事的磨練，放牛，下田耕作，捏泥土，吃泥巴，幾乎無所不做，做得土頭土臉，蒙受風吹雨打，無條件接收鄉間田園的一切，即使求學時，甚至到我離開南部前，也是如此。大自然、鄉間田園和農事給予我許多教益。我所寫的作品，大部分是從這裡取材的。我所寫的，可以說絕大部分是我在鄉間田園的所見所感和親身體驗，說是以血寫成的，實不為過。我寫作一直以人道為基點，「多寫鄉土、田園、大自然，歌頌人生的光明面，勉人奮發向上」，有益於世道人生。這從我已出版的6本散文集、7本詩集和尚未結集的許多詩文可以得到印證。這50年來，台灣詩壇紛紛擾擾，有這個派那個派，許多人合縱連橫，各據山頭，我則不予理會，一直堅守「田園」，「走自己的路」，耕自己的地，播自己的種，培植自己的作物， 再苦都不怕 再孤獨也無所謂 自己一個人走自己的路 鄉間田園是平和寧靜的。土地以全身奉獻的姿態靜靜待在那裡，任植物在那裡生生不息，任動物在那裡蹦躍活動，任農人挖掘耕種，毫無怨言。農人努力耕耘，將所種植的農作物培育長大，期盼有豐碩的收穫供世人享用。他們這「以養天下人」的宏偉胸懷，是可欽佩的；但是他們不爭功諉過。他們默默做事，「日出而作，日入而息」，謹守本分，不求聞達。於是他們自然凝結成了誠信純樸的個性，一個個臉上都盈滿忠厚篤實。他們悠遊自在過日子，仿佛生活在世外桃源。當然也有過拂逆的時候；但是他們還是自我認命，不怨天尤人。我歌詠他們，歌詠他們的歡笑，他們的苦楚。另一方面，我也歌詠大自然的恩賜。那些廣袤的田野和牧場，那些潺潺淙淙的流水，那些農作物，那些碧草、綠樹和水果，那些按季節綻放的花朵，那些溫馴的家禽家畜，那些演奏悅耳音樂的鳥雀和鳴蟲，那些飛舞的蝴蝶，那些溫和的風，那些靜靜的日子，還有不遠處的山脈和海洋，在在讓人喜愛。他們酷似農人，各自在本位上，默默成長，或結出碩果，或獻出其應有的本分，無私地奉獻出自己。其情操是偉大的。 只可惜，人類以其聰明才智，製器利用，創造發明，文明越來越發煌，科技越來越發達，卻對大自然造成了傷害。越來越多破壞，越來越多污染，越來越多天災，譬如動不動就山崩，土石流奔瀉，譬如動不動就淹大水，漫流成災，譬如臭氧層破了洞，引發氣候的暖化，天氣越來越異常，也因此而使魚群成群死亡，天下鳥雨，引起最近北極冰山的融化，或可能使水面擴大，部分地區許會被淹沒而從地球上消失。我因而寫環境保護的題材，讓人們知所警惕，盡力保護我們安居的地球，讓我們與萬物可以永久並存下去。 我今年已經72歲有餘，是一個「貨真價實」、「如假包換」的老人。機器用久了，必有磨損；人年紀一大，身體同樣會有磨損。其徵象就是機能退化，每有這裡酸那裡痛的現象，甚且不時有病痛來襲。老年如何生活？生活的情況如何？如何與親朋好友相處？酸痛、生病時如何處理？如何安度老年？洩氣？徒嘆許多事做起來已無能為力，鬱鬱寡歡，成為一個孤獨老人嗎？不是的。人老了還是有用的，至少其一生累積的經驗和智慧是難得的，不能悲觀的，應樂觀以對，作好生涯規畫，多所奮發。最後一程，雖說是落日黃昏，還是要嚴肅度過，要好好地走完。我以散文來書寫，也以詩來表達。我是1998年提前屆齡6年退休的。退休後，雖曾經歷病痛的打擊，我還是勇敢承受，善予處理，而且自認處理得很不錯，生活得很好。這是我所寫退休後生活的詩「彩繪晚霞」： 退休那天，我突然驚覺
不是嗎？雖是老人，雖是晚年，雖在日暮黃昏，我照樣可以把晚霞彩繪得很好，活得多彩多姿；非但如此，我還自認把晚霞彩繪得更好，活得更多彩多姿。 人生不能盡如人意，將來誰也沒能預料。我曾寫過一首詩，叫「拔河」，就文本內容看，是寫的科技文明和環境保護兩者間的拔河，其實是多意的，另有所指的： 這場精彩的超世紀大競賽 哪方會贏呢？ 還是勢均力敵，永遠保持生態平衡？ 拔河吧！讓科技文明和環境保護作生死拔河。而我們人也不時在拔河，和情感拔河，和學業拔河，和事業拔河，和命運拔河……但不論如何，即使現在已是老人，仍要記得，要發誓，如我在「甘蔗的話」所寫： 任你撕去身心吸去血， 我只是一心想貢獻給人類！ Blossoms of Poetry Blossoming, Colors in Riotous Profusion — Preface to Blossoming Blossoms of Poetry By Hsu Chicheng Since on May 22, 1961 when I published my first poem on the Literary Supplement of United News Paper, 50 years have passed. Now I collect my poems into Blossoming Blossoms of Poetry, the selection of my poems which, thought part of my poems, they represent my poetic achievement. 50 years, yes, how many 50 years do we have in our life? I was born in 1939, now over 72 years old. Two years ago, I wrote a poem entitled Seventy Years as Spring — Written for the 70th Birthday to spur myself on, thinking of the universally acknowledged “life begins at I was born and grew up in a small village of less than ten households in the south suburb of Chauchou, Pingtung County, where I was deeply influenced by countryside landscape and chastened by agricultural activities such as tilling the field, cattle grazing, and mud playing, etc. I was exposed to blowing winds and lashing rains, receiving everything in the great nature unconditionally, even during my schooling years and even before I left the South. From the great nature, vast field, and agricultural activities I have benefited a lot, and from them I drew most of my materials for poetry composition. So what I write, in the overwhelming majority, is what I have seen or have felt or have experienced in the countryside. My pieces are written in more blood than ink. Humanism is the basic point in my writing; with the usual subjects of countryside, landscape, and nature, to eulogize the sunny side of human life and to spur people onward, so as to finally bring benefit to my readers. This can be confirmed from the 6 collections of prose, 7 collections of poems, and other poems and prose which have not yet been included into any collections. In the past 50 years, the poetry forum of Afraid of no bitterness Afraid of no loneliness He shall go his own way by himself alone Countryside is quiet and peaceful, where the land lies there in the posture of utter devotion, for plants to die and grow in an endless succession, for animals to hop and jump, for farmers to dig and till, without any complaint. The farmers spare no efforts tilling the soil and growing crops, in expectation of a good harvest, and they are admirable for their bosom of “raising people of the world” while not avoiding mistakes and not striving for merit. They do their farming work in silence with the rising and the setting of the sun, while keeping their own business without the ambition of enrichment or promotion. Therefore, they form the morality of sincerity and simplicity, each face beaming with honesty and tolerance. They are living a leisurely life, as if in a fictitious land of peace away from the turmoil of the world. Of course, there are difficulties and confrontations, but they resign themselves to their fate and never impute faults and wrongs on others. I laud them, for their smiles, for their bitterness. On the other hand, I also laud favors from the great nature. The fields and pastures that stretch on and on, the running water that murmurs and babbles, the crops, the lush grasses, green trees, and various fruits, the flowers that open in accordance with the turn of seasons, the docile domestic birds and animals, the birds and insects that sing and produce melodious music, the dancing butterflies, the genial wind, the hills and the sea in the near distance, and the quiet days, all appeal to us. All these things, like the farmers here, keep their own places and grow silently or produce fruits or make unselfish dedication. They have a great and lofty sentiment. It is a pity that, by their intelligence and wisdom, human beings have made many inventions but, in spite of the development of science and technology, the great nature is more and more harmed: there are more and more damages, more and more pollutions, more and more natural disasters, such as landslide, onrushing of earth flow, flood disaster. The ozonosphere is damaged, which gives rise to the warming up of climate, causing the death of a lot of schools after schools of fishes and showers of birds; the Arctic icebergs begin to thaw, which may cause the expansion of water surface and the disappearance of some areas on the earth. For all this, I write some poems about environmental protection, for people to be alert against any danger, to try every means to protect the earth on which we are living, and for us to live in peace and harmony with myriads of things on this planet. Now I am over 72 years, in my advanced age. After a period of using, a machine is to see some wear and tear, and the same case applies to a person who is advanced in age. There is a decline in function: ailments and diseases from time to time. How to live in advanced age? What about the actual situation? How to get along with relatives and friends? What to do when caught with a disease? How to spend life in old age? To lose heart, owing to the inability to do many things? And sad in privacy, to be a lonely old man? No. Still useful is the old age. At least the experience and wisdom gained through lifetime is valuable, so we shall be optimistic instead of pessimistic, and try to make a careful plan of our life in the old age, so as to bring our efforts into full play. At the last section of our life, in spite of dusk with a setting sun, we shall enjoy it. Besides poetry, I also express my feelings in prose. I retired from work in 1998, in advance of 6 years of the prescribed time. Though plagued by diseases, I courageously face up to them and I believe, I have coped well with them. The following is a poem describing my life after retirement entitled Painting the Afterglow: It surprised me as soon as I retired that The sun has declined And the breath is unusual O, the years were about dusk Thereafter, I appreciated every day The declined sun painted The baby flow after world war Into colors of the afterglow With the youth fought tooth and nail I had been shaken in my mind Therefore I encouraged myself Raised my pen Drived my strength Painting the colors of the afterglow Day after day As they did There is nothing bad about retirement There is nothing bad about dusk I can paint still —Though it’s painting the afterglow It can paint better Isn’t it so? Though an old man, though life in old age, though in dusk with a setting sun, I can still paint rosy clouds, I can still live a colorful life — nay, I believe that I can paint better rosy clouds and can live a more colorful life. Life is not fully up to our expectations, and nobody can predict the future. I have a poem entitled Tug-of-War which, according to its content, it is a tug-of-war between science & technology and environmental protection, but the deep meaning is manifold: The wonderful competition at the turn of the century Which party is going to win? Or the game is finely balanced, so as to keep ecology in lasting balance? Let there be a tug-of-war: between science & technology and environmental protection. And we are also having a tug-of-war, with our emotion, with our academic performance, with our career, and with our fate … even if we are old people now, we shall still remember, as in my poem entitled A Sugarcane’s Words: I am determined to devote myself to human beings, And I don’t care about whether you eat up my flesh or drink up my blood.! November 16, 2011 at Hsinchuang |
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