Li Yousheng

Author’s Note: Although I have loved literature and history since childhood, I wouldn’t say I have a particular fondness for classical Chinese poetry. In recent years, while sorting through old belongings, I discovered several classical poems written between 1967 and 1971, preserved word for word. I’m sharing them with readers for their appreciation, as they also have sociological historical value. I entered university in 1963, and in 1966, after participating in the Four Cleanups Movement in the countryside, I returned to Peking University to participate in the Cultural Revolution. After starting work in 1970, I did collective labor for a year, still living a student life. During these years, I also noticed that my classmates showed an interest in poetry and painting, perhaps related to the worker-peasant-soldier perspective advocated by the Cultural Revolution. Back then, we lived under the leadership of military personnel. Dividing human society into natural, primitive societies and artificial, secondary societies reveals that the vast rural areas of China lived in a quasi-primitive society in the 1950s, and the order of primitive society is aesthetic. Of my sixty classmates in university and twenty colleagues in my department after graduation, none of them participated in looting or vandalism, none of them had the ability to make others the target of mass criticism, and none of them became the target of mass criticism. Like most Chinese people, we stood at a distance, raising our hands and chanting slogans, but our hearts also drew closer to idealized virtues such as equality, friendship, and dedication. In academic circles, it’s often said that communism and Christianity share similar doctrines, and that the European religious revolutions were a resistance to and purification of the Roman Catholic Church’s Christian doctrines, while the Chinese Cultural Revolution was a resistance to and purification of Soviet fundamentalist communism. History has proven that neither the Roman Catholic Church nor the Soviet Communist regime could resist the tide of capitalist wealth accumulation.

1. Climbing Qianling Mountain

Greenery veils the oblique path leading up to Qianling.

Ten miles of misty clouds over Guiyang City.

The streets and alleys are full of stories.

The feelings between the characters in the Red Chamber are subtle and intertwined.

Blue sky is just a handful away.

The path in the mundane world is impassable.

One should pity the loneliness of scholars throughout the ages.

The temple is located on the mountainside where the bell tolls.

(Qianling Mountain is located north of Guiyang City. I wrote this poem when I first climbed Qianling Mountain in 1967, describing my impression of Guiyang City from the top of the mountain.)

2. Early Summer at Peking Union Medical College Hospital

Spring dislikes her delicate slenderness, autumn dislikes her aged appearance.

I cherish the boundless beauty of early summer.

Newly formed, yet unformed poplar leaves

The red leaves fade, the green leaves begin to turn green, and the apricots are fragrant.

A light drizzle was falling, urging the visitors to leave.

The setting sun casts long shadows on people.

The evening breeze is refreshing, but it’s even more heart-wrenching.

Moonlight shines beneath the grape trellis.

(When I was studying at Peking Union Medical College Hospital, walking from the dormitory to the hospital involved passing through the hospital’s simple backyard, which contained only a few small poplar trees, a few apricot trees, and a grape trellis. However, there were stone benches under the grape trellis for people to sit on.)

3. Jinshan Road

The jungle stream murmurs.

The branches are bent low by the weight of persimmons and chestnuts.

Where boulders are piled up and overgrown with weeds

The shepherd boy is cracking his whip.

Autumn is waning on the hillside.

Enjoying ourselves to the fullest.

“The scenery of Yunnan and Guizhou comes from the north.”

Stop and chase after the cicadas.

(In the autumn of 1967, I went on an outing with three or five classmates to Jinshan in the western suburbs of Beijing. On the way, I saw the scenery above, which was very similar to the scenery of Yunnan and Guizhou. So I composed the poem above.)

4. Streetlights

At the Milky Way in Chang’an, ten miles away

Jade pillars and bright lanterns reflect the green trees.

Golden wind ignites magnolias,

The green leaves, both bright and dark, flutter.

Tall and upright, holding up two moons.

The flowing light washes over the autumn night.

In the gentle light of my heart,

Pity when love is gone, but it will never return.

From 1967 to 1970, I studied at Peking Union Medical College Hospital. It was just a short walk to Chang’an Avenue and two bus stops to Tiananmen Square. After dinner, when we had nothing to do, a few classmates and I would often stroll along Chang’an Avenue. Back then, the streetlights on Chang’an Avenue were tall pillars with two large round discs extending from the top, each containing a fluorescent light, making them quite decorative and reminding me of magnolias and the full moon. Poplar trees come in large and small leaf varieties; the ones lining Chang’an Avenue were small-leaved. When a pair of streetlights pierced the poplar canopy… The trees illuminated all the leaves, making them clearly visible, each one sparkling and lovely. When walking with classmates, it was difficult to linger, so I often went out alone and stood under the trees to admire them. Gazing at the countless tiny yet vividly real leaves, I suddenly felt the beauty and preciousness of life. Afterwards, whenever I saw a similar magnificent and delicate scene of leaves under a sunny day, I felt a similar emotion, believing that the famous Tang Dynasty poet Cui Hao’s lines, “The trees of Hanyang stand clearly on the sunny riverbank, the fragrant grasses grow lush on Parrot Island,” conveyed the same feeling.

5. Large gray factory

Six years of hard study at the university

Today, farmers are busy with their own joys.

The morning glow sweeps across the stars as evening falls.

The evening breeze blows across the slope, bringing the fragrance of the valley.

The old woman called for a doctor to bring her needle and thread.

The woman went to the doctor because she was pregnant.

The most unforgettable part,

Under the moon at the village entrance, we whispered heartfelt words.

(This poem was written in 1969 when I participated in a mobile medical team from Peking Union Medical College Hospital in Dahuichang, a suburb of Beijing. It records my life and state of mind at the time. Dahuichang Village is located on a hillside, hence the phrase “the evening breeze blows across the slope.” The last line describes chatting with farmers under the moon. At that time, there was an idea of ​​accepting re-education from poor and lower-middle peasants, although the farmers did not have the idea of ​​educating educated people.)

6. Arrive at Liugu Temple at night

Let’s stay at the ancient temple with rubber wheels.

The cold moon led the way for the horse.

Whipping the whip, chasing the quiet night.

The lights of a sick family’s home are lit at the edge of the village.

A table of tea and fireworks,

They met for the first time in a foreign land late at night.

Gathered around the fire, chatting and laughing, the atmosphere is warm and cozy.

They come and go in a hurried and miserable way.

(In the autumn and winter of 1969, I accompanied a mobile medical team from Peking Union Medical College Hospital to the countryside. We stayed in Hejian County, Hebei Province. One night, a horse-drawn carriage came from Liugusi Village, which was quite far away, to pick us up for a house call. They said a woman was having a difficult childbirth. When we arrived, the patient had already given birth smoothly and was fine. We had no choice but to stay overnight in the village and return the next day. At that time, rubber-wheeled horse-drawn carriages were considered advanced; wooden-wheeled carriages were still in use.)

7. Shijing Village: Home Visits

The warm rays of the setting sun bathe thousands of villages, and bicycles welcome patients on their way to the clinic.

The cotton lint has just been laid, winter is not yet cold, and the grain and sorghum have not yet been finished, yet the granaries are already newly filled.

He carefully instructed the old woman on the kang (heated brick bed), and repeatedly bid farewell to his fellow villagers by the roadside.

Suddenly, a voice called from afar, “Please wait! The woman next door is about to give birth!”

(When I was making a medical tour in the countryside of Hebei, the local farmers, hearing that a good doctor from Beijing had come, and with the aim of providing free medical care and medicine to their doorsteps, were incredibly welcoming. At that time, the farmers had no vehicles, so we could only sit on the back of their bicycles, letting them carry us along the bumpy dirt roads. Shijing Village is where Mao Zedong taught the Book of Poetry during the Western Han Dynasty.)

8. Shijing Village: Autumn Colors

A lazy goose lies on a broken willow branch in the clear water; frost comes and leaves wither in the clear autumn plain.

The setting sun paints the pear orchard a fiery red, while crimson ribbons adorn the surrounding village.

The sunset glow steals a promise upon landing, while the morning breeze gently flirts against the wall.

The countryside may be bustling, but the scenery never ends; snow falls on the silver trees, a testament to a bountiful year.

(In the 1960s and 70s, I participated in a rural medical team and lived in Shijing Village, Hejian. When most trees had already shed their leaves, the village’s pear orchard turned a vibrant red, more beautiful and richer in vermilion than the maple leaves. I only saw this once in my life, perhaps due to certain weather conditions. I cherished this scene greatly and often admired it alone. The lines “The sunset falls to the ground, secretly promising itself; the morning breeze leans against the wall, slowly flirting” compare the vibrant red pear orchard to a beautiful woman, suggesting a marriage promise by the sunset and a flirtation by the morning breeze. One day, by a wall less than a person’s height, I saw the vibrant leaves fluttering in the breeze on the branches, quite melodious and graceful, reminding me that flirting between men and women is nothing more than this. As for the sunset promising itself itself, I temporarily consider the pear orchard as the male, and the word “secretly” reveals the blush on a young woman’s face like the sunset when she makes her promise. The first line, “Lazy goose breaks the willow,” is a real scene record: after the willow tree on the pond bank fell into the pond, its crown broke off, and new branches grew back on the trunk.)

9. Gangtou

Last night and tonight, 100 miles.

The familiar accent through the window lulls me into a dream.

The hoodlum Yang Yang walked away in the wind and sand.

Walking through the cold night, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow.

Old feelings reunite at the riverside pavilion.

Seeking ancient charm on the streets of Baoding.

Revolution originally meant change.

They always saw each other off and welcomed each other back.

(In late 1969, I accompanied a mobile medical team from Peking Union Medical College Hospital to Gangtou Village in Xinle County, Hebei Province. We marched at night. This poem records this journey. Walking on the rural dirt roads at night, one foot deep and the other shallow, is something modern people can probably never imagine; staying overnight in a foreign land, I dreamt of hearing the heavy accents of farmers from next door.)

10. Remembering Qin’e, my younger sister

The village is silent,

Whose dreams are filled with murmured words?

murmuring,

Sister, wake up

The spinning wheel is set up.

The waning moon in the western sky was as white as jade.

The roosters crowed urgently at each other.

urgent sounds,

The sound of bustling activity was intense.

New cotton wool has been added.

(I went to the countryside in 1970 and stayed in a farmer’s home. The little girl next door, who was only a teenager, would set up a spinning wheel in front of her door before dawn and spin yarn along the street, constantly adding cotton wool amidst the whirring sound.)

11. Remembering Qin’e, reading a novel, her son

After finishing reading the book,

My fleeting dream has ended, unnoticed.

Unnoticed

Gentle breeze and light rain,

Completely consistent.

The setting sun casts a gentle glow on the clear, green stream.

I slowly and deliberately tell you what’s on my mind.

What’s on my mind

What are the writer’s thoughts?

What are the readers’ thoughts?

(The Soviet novel “Son,” published by China Youth Publishing House in 1954, is written by Smirnov and translated by Ru Long. It tells the story of a single mother and her two young sons living in a Soviet rural area after World War II. Today, my memory of that orphan and widow’s life is filled with both bitterness and warmth. It is not a famous work, and it was a rare opportunity for me to read it during my time in the countryside during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s and 70s, which explains my vivid memories and emotions. The fact that I was able to read it in the countryside suggests that politics were more relaxed and free in rural areas than in cities.)

12. Shahe

Looking out from the willow-lined beach, one sees only distant houses.

Clear blue water flows.

Endless spring breeze

The vast desert is bathed in sunshine for thousands of miles.

Long bridge, iron horses, and blue sky—

A clear, sunny sky

The blue sea rumbles.

The universe was clear and the sky was calm.

(In the first half of 1970, I was in Xinle County, Hebei Province, and had the opportunity to visit the Shahe area of ​​Hebei. I was deeply impressed by the vast sandy riverbanks there, and as the train passed over the railway bridge, it seemed to be above the blue sky. I wrote this poem to record this experience.)

13. The 10th Anniversary of “Lang Tao Sha Diary”

I remember ten years ago,

Best wishes to you,

May it accompany me throughout my life, and may my life be long and prosperous.

Who knows what a fire might ignite today?

I send you off to the Western Paradise.

The Yin-Yang Heaven is not abolished.

The Garden of Sunshine first appeared.

May the bright moon bring you eternal joy.

Buy a new copy of the book before the ashes are completely gone.

It will never end.

(At the urging of my literature teacher, I developed the habit of keeping a diary in 1960, which I have kept ever since. During the Cultural Revolution, many people suffered misfortune because of their diaries, and I was also very afraid. When I left Beijing for Guizhou in 1970, I burned most of my diaries, which I now regret. In 1971, several volumes of my diaries were confiscated by a hospital under the control of the Military Control Commission, and I felt that I was in deep trouble. Soon after, the Lin Biao incident occurred, and the military control personnel were too busy to deal with their own problems. My diaries were returned to me several months later without any explanation, which shows how subtle the change in my mind was. Much later, I unexpectedly learned that the hospital leaders who had read my diaries had developed an unusual fondness for me, and even considered me a rare talent. It was a blessing in disguise.)

14. Passing through Guilin

Jungle Hun

The peaks are truly magnificent.

Where water soaks and lights are shrouded in smoke,

Night falls on Guilin.

(In the 1960s, when I first passed through Guilin by train, it was dusk, just before the train slowed down to enter the city. In the brief moments before this scene took hold, the above imagery was imprinted in my mind, which became the sentences above. I’ve known since childhood that Guilin’s scenery is the best under heaven. I think I was passing through Guilin at night with a hopeful and expectant heart, unable to disembark, and thus gained this beautiful impression: under the night sky, the forests were shrouded in mist, and the mountain peaks pierced the blue sky, their outlines remarkably clear and magnificent. Later, when I got off the train during the day and wandered around Guilin, my impressions were entirely different.)

15. Reed Flute Cave, Guilin

Beside the beautiful green hills and clear waters,

Inside the Reed Flute Cave (࣪#22825;).

The stalactites are strange and varied.

The lights of each other illuminate the myriad colors of the rocks.

The mosquito net hangs high, no one lives there.

Smoke seemed to rise from the open countryside.

Nature has created this world over countless millennia.

Entering and exiting for a quick look is all it takes.

(In 1970, when I went to work in Guizhou, I stopped in Guilin to visit the caves and wrote this poem to record my impressions of one of the local caves. Back then, the guides would deliberately describe to tourists that one part looked like a mosquito net, and another like a village. I later visited the caves in Monaco, Europe, but I don’t remember any similar explanations, so I guess today’s cave visitors no longer have such imaginations.)

16. Butterfly Loves Flowers Mountain Climbing

In the spring of 1971, I worked at the 302 Hospital in Anshun, Guizhou, where my schedule was very tight. Occasionally, when I had some free time, I would go hiking with a few colleagues for leisure. Later, I wrote a poem to commemorate this. It was titled “Butterfly Loves Flowers,” without any strict tonal patterns, only expressing my appreciation for the scenery and the beauty of nature. I will not change it.

Lost in the desolate city under the setting sun,

I am delighted to see the Cangshan Mountains, like a sea, bursting forth with the red sun.

The cycle of life and death, the shifting of stars and moon,

The sunshine is wasted on the boundless spring.

A dream of an eagle spreading its wings

A gentle east wind carries me across the azure sky.

Mountains and rivers connect to the vast universe.

My heart surges with the waves, reaching the heavens.

17. Water Melody: Reading Chairman Mao’s Poems

Its spirit is as magnificent as mountains and rivers.

Sentiments are as vast as the sky.

The clouds drift and the water flows gently.

A rainbow reflected in the blue sea.

Respond coldly to the anti-China wave

Two superpowers dominated the world.

The croaking of frogs was deafening.

A song that moves the earth, a whirlwind that sweeps across the universe.

Disdain

Timeless Poems

Leisurely mood:

Sorrow and resentment at parting

I endure the sight of flowing water and falling flowers.

Furthermore, they planned to climb the mountain and carry books with them.

High praises of the rosy dawn and rising sun,

The melodious sound follows the east wind.

The sky and clouds were dyed red.

The red hue shines through the skin.

(In 1970-1971, I was participating in a year-long labor reform program: building a hospital on a selected barren slope. Before National Day, the hospital was to publish a wall newspaper, also known as a bulletin board, which was a large-character poster with eulogistic texts pasted on walls or boards. This writing was not voluntary but assigned. Therefore, this poem I wrote, “Prelude to Water Melody,” was first and foremost a piece of writing done under orders, but it also contained my own thoughts and imagination. The line “Disdainful of ancient lyrics, all are but idle sentiments” cannot be said to be a full expression of my understanding and ideas, but I still believe it represents my thoughts when I wrote this poem.)

18. Second Ascent of Qianling

Four autumns later,

My heart is filled with suspense and pain,

Empty regrets and heartless dreams have passed.

At the prime of youth,

innocent and carefree,

There is no selfishness involved.

Will as strong as steel

Passion is like fire.

Full of passion for the motherland.

End,

This revolutionary friendship,

The mountains and rivers will forever bear the marks of history.

Seeking the old in Qianling

Among the peaks,

Guiyang is shrouded in mist and clouds.

Looking back,

The turbulent and sparsely populated years,

Alas, what a pity I am now.

Heaven is merciless.

People grow old easily.

The Nanming River flows wide and turbulent.

Come on,

Sipping light tea leisurely by the window.

(In 1971, I went to Guiyang with a classmate surnamed Hu, and was able to visit Qianling Mountain for the second time. I also met a local acquaintance from my first visit to Qianling Mountain four years earlier. I wrote this poem to record my feelings at that time. The Nanming River flows through the city of Guiyang.)

19. Huaxi Bu Suanzi

Greenery surges and red pavilions bloom,

Jade Emperor blocks the flow of green.

Undeterred by hardship, they traversed the jungle.

Autumn stretches as far as the eye can see.

Four years of bitter regret

I am happy today.

Intending to borrow the dream of the Southern Ming Dynasty across the Yangtze River,

It flows eastward in a mighty torrent.

(In 1971, I revisited the Huaxi Scenic Area with a classmate surnamed Hu in Guiyang, and wrote this poem to record my feelings at the time. Huaxi is the upper reaches of the Nanming River, which in turn is the upper reaches of the Yangtze River.) (Author’s website: http://taoism21cen.com)