How to write a classic poem and finish it? Urgent! ! ! ! ! ! !

Youth has always been a fleeting time, it is the most brilliant time in a person's life, and it is also the most easy time to enjoy inadvertently. "Life is easy to get old, but youth is hard to get back." People often use helpless sighs to express their infinite nostalgia and feelings for youth. In the works of Taiwan Province woman writer Zhang Manjuan, youth transcends time and space in the inheritance of life connotation and always glows with attractive brilliance.

Zhang Manjuan is known as a talented woman in Taiwan Province Province. Born in 196 1 year, this doctor of classical literature not only teaches, writes, hosts TV programs, shoots advertisements and plays dramas, but also owns his personal website "Zhang Manjuan's Spiritual Navigation Map" and runs "Love Private School" and "Purple Stone Workshop". It is reported that she is the most famous and popular Chinese woman writer in Hongkong, Taiwan Province, the United States and various Chinese areas in Southeast Asia. After reading her essay "Youth Never Dies, Just Migrates", we can easily agree with this evaluation.

This essay was written by Zhang Manjuan because of the life change of his tutor.

Starting from her 25-year-old doctoral life, the author wrote about her speculation about the stalwart man caused by the word "stalwart figure", her "energetic and dazzling" tutor who was active in academia at the age of 40, and her silent observation of the tutor's family: the tutor has a wife and two sons and also teaches at the university. With a tacit attitude, warm family and intimate feelings, the author wrote: "I gradually understand that a teacher is like a bank full of green willows. He is smiling and holding his wife tenderly, and two boats, one big and one small, are moored, so he is a stalwart man. "

Unexpectedly, such a poetic beginning has brought readers a tortuous and sad story: just after completing his doctorate, the author received the bad news that his mother died of sudden cancer. At the farewell ceremony for Jenny, the beautiful voice of Taiwan Province singer Yu-Ching Fei was played: "Sister, sister, you let go of my hand, I can't go with you ..." The author looked up in surprise and saw the little boy kneeling on the ground after many people. At that time, he was actually a junior high school student, because he lost his mother and looked particularly thin. " In a sad and painful atmosphere, the author didn't even have the courage to go to the little boy who was carefully cared for by his mother and say something comforting to him.

"There are really many accidents in life," wrote the living author. At this time, I felt not only the misfortune of my tutor's family. Just one year after Jenny's death, the author encountered an emotional storm at work, faced with a choice, and suddenly heard the news that her tutor was dying of a stroke. This stalwart man who used to "smoke with a smile" collapsed in his hospital bed and couldn't make his own decisions at all. "What about the family? What about the two children? My friend who went with me tried to talk to the teacher. I closed my lips and made no noise. I just want to ask God, what is this providence? Didn't you say that God never shuts one door but he opens another? What road is this? "

There are thousands of roads in life. But when a man lost his wife and his young son was underage, he got seriously ill and fell ill in the hospital. He was really desperate. The author saw that the 50-year-old tutor was learning to speak again, which should have been the best age to make a difference in academia. It should be the voice of singing beautiful poems, but now it is sweating and panting to catch "alas, alas, ah, ah". The hospital nurse also said that the teacher was great, and the students who were going to visit the teacher applauded the teacher. When I walked out of the hospital, my tears suddenly came down and I cried all the way along the tree-lined road. What an absurd and cruel life it is.

If the prose ends here, the author will only convey us sadness. We can only see a fragment of disorderly life, and even we will have a spreading pessimistic and lonely mood, a kind of boredom and sorrow for life or life. Zhang Manjuan didn't. She not only showed the readers a tragic ending of life-moreover, it was not the end of life.

When Zhang Manjuan was about to turn 40, that is, when Zhang Manjuan was about to turn into her old teacher, she saw the miracle of life: a young man with focused eyes, a very eager smile, a bright look in class, a confident expression and a superficial vicissitudes of life approached the author. When he said a name to the teacher, he said, "I feel dizzy." The memory that was blocked by smoke and dust, the dignified and smiling teacher suddenly appeared in front of me very clearly. " This young, tall and healthy economics boy turned out to be the youngest son who knelt in front of his mother's coffin and cried.

"Twilight enveloped the teaching building, it will be very dark, and then the stars will light up. Once, it was time for dinner. Now, we meet in a crowded corridor full of sounds. More than ten years later, he finished his five-year junior college, finished his military service and was admitted to the university. He chose this course on purpose and got to know me. The little boy who kept me in suspense was twenty-four years old, just in his prime, but I was her mother's age. Youth never dies, it just migrates from me to him. "

The author listened attentively to the boy's story about his years of suffering, the desolation under the fence and the empty home he didn't want to go back to. The sunshine boy in front of her really made her feel the attractive charm of life. Soon after, the author's father was hospitalized, where his mother accompanied him day and night. "I have to go back to an empty home after a busy day. In those unpredictable days, I often think of the accident that the boy told me. In the darkness of fear, it seems that he came to me and told me some comforting words, which I wanted to say many years ago, but I didn't say it after all. I got peace because of this. When I suddenly met my youth, I saw the compassion of the years. "

Life, Years, Youth —— What unique and profound life connotation did Zhang Manjuan convey to us in such plain and simple words? Life is eventful, but the continuation of life means the birth and growth of new hope. In a sense, the process of human growth is such a painful transformation from pupa to butterfly and then to self-remoulding, and our society is also making continuous progress and development. However, once this process is condensed into one's life and presented to us intuitively, we seem unable to bear the weight of life. However, just like the growth and progress of human beings, as long as we grope through this tortuous and muddy journey in the dark and look back, we will suddenly find that there is such great potential inside our bodies. We can not only bear it, but also gain new energy and motivation and spiritual sublimation through it. Although we have to pay for it.

Zhang Manjuan, who is engaged in the teaching and research of China classical literature, has won the charm of traditional culture in his prose. In an interview with reporters, Zhang Manjuan said: "I am pursuing my neoclassicism, hoping to represent the characteristics of new human beings in the 1990s, not only to find a familiar taste in the works of new generation readers, but also to bring them subtle things in their lives that they can't understand for the time being." In fact, the author's understanding of "subtle things in life" is naturally integrated with the ancient idea of "harmony between man and nature", and "heaven" is the law of nature. Heaven and earth are infinite and life is limited. People, whether individuals or all, can't escape the fate of natural laws. "There are unexpected events in the sky, and people are doomed", and the most mysterious and attractive place of life actually lies in its unpredictable and endless life form-even if the body disappears, the human spirit will eventually draw a better and more vivid running track in the new life process.

Zhang Manjuan, who is good at expressing emotions, controls the "degree" of emotional expression very well. It seems that she is writing prose in the style of a novel, full of twists and turns, but she writes sadly without complaining, worrying without hurting, and there is a great tension between emotional release and acceptance. Following the author, we seem to be walking on the road of life, which is covered by clouds, bitter or happy, sad or happy, and everything is calmly faced and let nature take its course. Therefore, in the process of exploring the mystery of life, we also realize a kind of suddenly enlightened charm.

Zhang Manjuan said: "I have obtained a master's degree and a doctor's degree in studying classical literature, and I have been teaching classical literature in universities. Up to now, my writing can't get rid of the feelings of intellectuals. In the past, pure literature was academic and difficult for readers to understand. I strive to break through and write my works better, which is different from popular works. I walk the balance beam between the two. In my opinion, a new generation of intellectual writers should have both respectable sentiments and amiable feelings, and their works should be like a living person. " I think this is what we call "mass consciousness". Zhang Manjuan, who has "mass consciousness", interprets the original profound classical philosophy of "the unity of man and nature" with pure and elegant words through trivial daily life and ordinary life accidents, thus transcending the life phenomenon and cultivating the intelligent life realm.

Attached:

Youth never dies, it just migrates.

Zhang Manjuan

At that time, I was just young.

That year, I was twenty-five years old and just admitted to the doctoral class. While studying for my degree, I was writing. I had published my first novel collection, The Sea is Blue, which attracted people's attention because of its unpredictable best-selling situation. I am very comfortable in the classical world and college life. Where is my little peach blossom garden? I can read quietly and hide myself. When I come across a clever word, I can admire and ponder for a long time and get great joy. I don't know where I have seen the words to describe a man's "great figure". I thought about it very hard. What kind of image is it? Some professors in our Chinese department are gentle; There are symmetrical trees; Some are aloof and arrogant, but none of them are great. It seems that I have an understanding of the invasion, but it is difficult to describe it.

After the winter vacation, I met such a professor. He was tall and strong, moving freely, smiling slightly and teaching us poetry. Because he used to be a sports major, he looks quite different from the temperament of ordinary people in China. Every weekend, we have to go to the teacher's home for class. Everyone around the dining table, not eating, but analyzing a poem or a sentence. Seeing him laughing and spitting smoke, I quietly thought, is this a stalwart man? Teachers in their forties were very active in the academic circles at that time, with high spirits and sharp edges. They often feel a sense of caution and fear when listening to his class. I hardly speak, always quiet, but I never stop observing him and his family with interest.

He has a wife and two sons, who also teach at the university. When our class is coming to an end, Jenny and her little son sometimes come in together. Jenny takes some daily necessities or food. The little boy is about ten years old. He carried his schoolbag on his back, took off his shoes and stared at us with curious black eyes. He is not afraid of life. The teacher will stop the course being explained, look at them and sometimes talk a few words. Such words and eyes have a casual attachment. I gradually understand that a teacher is like a bank full of green willows. He smiled and hugged his wife tenderly. Two ships, one large and one small, had docked. Therefore, he is a firm man.

When we left, the sound of the boiler came from the teacher's kitchen, and dinner was gradually served. We wandered under the viaduct and walked to the bus stop. A little tired, but also a lot of longing, I suddenly thought of my future, will there be such a warm family? Intimacy around the table? A little boy with a backpack? When it is dark, the stars climb into the sky.

After finishing my doctoral summer vacation, I invited a group of friends to travel to China for nearly a month. Back in Taipei, the whole person became lazy. It rained before school started, and autumn suddenly came. My classmate called me and told me that my wife who had cancer died, and everyone would go to the public sacrifice together. They want to make sure I'm back.

I don't know why, but I always feel that Jenny should recover. She is still young and has a husband who loves her. With a son who can still act like a spoiled brat, she should get better. That day, I went early, thinking from beginning to end that maybe I could help. But what can I do to help Who can help? During the farewell ceremony, Yu-Ching Fei's beautiful voice was played on the loudspeaker: "Sister, sister, you let go of my hand, I can't go with you …" I looked up in surprise and passed many people. I saw the little boy kneeling on the ground. At that time, he was actually a junior high school student, and he was particularly thin because he lost his mother.

I have an impulse to walk over to him, look into his black eyes and say a few words of comfort. But I didn't, because I didn't know what to say, and I was afraid that I would burst into tears when I saw his tears.

There are really many accidents in life, but at that time I naively thought that I had got a degree and had a full-time job. Someone introduced me to a doctor studying in the United States. As long as I have enough patience and hard work, I can be happy. I also thought that the frustrations of this family should stop here, and it should be extremely happy.

A year later, I was caught in a strong storm caused by emotions and faced with difficult choices at work. Suddenly I heard the news that the teacher had a stroke in his brain stem and was in critical condition. When I visited the hospital, the teacher had already entered the general ward from the intensive care unit. I heard that my consciousness was clear, and my once mighty body fell on the hospital bed, completely unable to make a decision. What about the family? What about the two boys? My friend who went with me tried to talk to the teacher. I closed my lips and made no noise. I just want to ask God, what is this providence? Didn't you say that God never shuts one door but he opens another? What road is this?

I visited the teacher when he transferred from Sanzong to Rongzong to start rehabilitation treatment. That day, he was learning to speak. Fifty-year-old teachers should be the best age to make great achievements in academia; It should be the voice that sings beautiful poems, and now it is struggling to catch up: alas, alas, ah, ah … sweating and panting. The nurse said optimistically that the teacher did a good job and we should applaud the teacher. When I walked out of the hospital, my tears suddenly fell and I cried all the way along the tree-lined road. What an absurd and cruel life it is.

At the same time, the injury that happened to me didn't stop. I always have to make great efforts to cope with my depression. Since then, I have never visited my teacher again, only asked some people close to him about his illness. The teacher left the hospital and went home to recuperate. The original house was sold and moved to a quiet place. Occasionally, when the car passes the viaduct, I will still turn my head and look in that direction in the years, with a touch of sadness. There is a secret story of my youth.

Later, I suddenly met my youth.

This year is my eleventh full-time year in college, and I am about to step into my forties. Life is suddenly busy, with radio, TV and endless speeches. However, I try not to let other chores affect my teaching. I always walk into the classroom with a happy mood and face those waiting eyes. Especially for law and business students, I always look forward to taking myself or them to an unexpected place in many topics related to life.

Every year, the atmosphere of the class is different because of the different combination of students. If several students are particularly lively and fully interactive, there will be wonderful sparks coming in and out. Sometimes I meet students who don't like to talk but are willing to think deeply, and their views challenge my values and cognition, which is also very enjoyable. One semester's class can't be expected to have any impact on students, as long as it can provide students with opportunities to realize themselves.

Several students listened to my stories with attentive eyes this semester. There is a man and a woman in the economics department, which is very famous. Even if I don't think my jokes are funny, he must want to laugh. Therefore, when he didn't come to class, the class seemed a bit lonely. Usually such a student who has a sense of participation will speak enthusiastically during the discussion, but this boy almost never speaks. Laugh when you should; Nod hard when it's time to nod, but don't talk. I guess it's because he is not good at words. When it was his turn to speak on stage, he talked about the magnificent mountains and rivers from Yu's "Cultural Journey" without any lecture notes and outlines. Speaking of it, he was more like a Chinese department student than a business school student. I sat under the stage and looked up at him. It turned out to be such a tall boy. It is clearly a youthful face, but when it is fluently reported, it seems that there is an old soul, which faintly reveals shallow vicissitudes. He spoke on the stage with a cheerful and confident expression, which was quite different from the way he burst into laughter under the stage. After he finished his report, he was applauded, and even I couldn't help clapping for him.

Winter came and the general education class was over. I walked around the classroom and watched the students scribble on the final exam paper. The test paper was handed to the podium, and I could already read their grades from those smiling or frowning faces.

Walking out of the classroom with a stack of papers, the economics boy waited at the door: "teacher." He shouted to me, "Can you give me a minute?"

I stopped and told him that I only had a little time because I was in a hurry to go to the radio station. The live broadcast and pre-recording every Friday make me a little anxious.

"ok." He smiled and looked nervous, ready to run away: "I just want to ask you if you remember a teacher …" He said a name. Suddenly said a name.

I feel dizzy. The memory blocked by smoke and dust, the fog dispersed, and the huge and smiling teacher suddenly came to me clearly. Of course I remember, even if I don't remember for many years, I can't forget it. "You are ..." I looked back at him, looking at his black eyes behind the lens, tears are so unstable.

Twilight covers the teaching building, it will be dark, and then the stars will light up. Once, it was time for dinner. Now, we meet in a crowded corridor full of sounds. After more than ten years, he finished his five-year junior college, finished his military service, was admitted to the university, took this course specially, and recognized me. The little boy who kept me in suspense was twenty-four years old, in the prime of life, and I was his mother's age. Youth never dies, it just migrates from me to him.

Later, I heard him talk about the past when he saw me with long hair at home. At that time, we never said a word, but he thought about how to tell this sister. I heard from him that he suffered misfortune year after year and his father was in hospital for a whole year. How reluctant he is to go home, to an empty home after dark. I listened attentively, but I didn't expect that soon after, my father was hospitalized urgently and my mother was in the hospital day and night. I have to go back to my empty home after a busy day. In those unpredictable days, I often think of the accident that the boy told me. In the darkness of fear, he seemed to come up to me and tell me some comforting words, which I wanted to say many years ago, but I never said. I got peace because of this.

When I suddenly met my youth, I saw the compassion of the years.