许其正：诗花盛开 多彩缤纷

从1961年5月22日第一首诗发表于联合副刊起，到今年正好50年。我将所写的诗集结为诗选，名为《盛开的诗花》，虽然不能概括诗作的全部，总算可以代表所写诗的大部分成果了。

50年，人生有多少个50年？

我是1939年出生的，到今年已72岁有余了。我在两年前即70岁时，曾写过一首诗，题为“以70为春”，期勉自己，正是不少人所说的“人生70才开始”之意。我把我的诗在这时集结为诗选，除作个阶段性的精选总结，竖立为石碑，读者一定可以想像得到，正是希望以这石碑作为起点，再次开步走——至少得继续前进。

我在故乡潮州南郊的一个不到10户人家的小农村出生长大，从小便出入乡间田园，接受乡间田园的熏陶，从事农事的磨练，放牛，下田耕作，捏泥土，吃泥巴，几乎无所不做，做得土头土脸，蒙受风吹雨打，无条件接收乡间田园的一切，即使求学时，甚至到我离开南部前，也是如此。大自然、乡间田园和农事给予我许多教益。我所写的作品，大部分是从这里取材的。我所写的，可以说绝大部分是我在乡间田园的所见所感和亲身体验，说是以血写成的，实不为过。我写作一直以人道为基点，“多写乡土、田园、大自然，歌颂人生的光明面，勉人奋发向上”，有益于世道人生。这从我已出版的6本散文集、7本诗集和尚未结集的许多诗文可以得到印证。这50年来，台湾诗坛纷纷扰扰，有这个派那个派，许多人合纵连横，各据山头，我则不予理会，一直坚守“田园”，“走自己的路”，耕自己的地，播自己的种，培植自己的作物，

再苦都不怕
再孤独也无所谓
自己一个人走自己的路

乡间田园是平和宁静的。土地以全身奉献的姿态静静待在那里，任植物在那里生生不息，任动物在那里蹦跃活动，任农人挖掘耕种，毫无怨言。农人努力耕耘，将所种植的农作物培育长大，期盼有丰硕的收获供世人享用。他们这“以养天下人”的宏伟胸怀，是可钦佩的；但是他们不争功诿过。他们默默做事，“日出而作，日入而息”，谨守本分，不求闻达。于是他们自然凝结成了诚信纯朴的个性，一个个脸上都盈满忠厚笃实。他们悠游自在过日子，仿佛生活在世外桃源。当然也有过拂逆的时候；但是他们还是自我认命，不怨天尤人。我歌咏他们，歌咏他们的欢笑，他们的苦楚。另一方面，我也歌咏大自然的恩赐。那些广袤的田野和牧场，那些潺潺淙淙的流水，那些农作物，那些碧草、绿树和水果，那些按季节绽放的花朵，那些温驯的家禽家畜，那些演奏悦耳音乐的鸟雀和鸣虫，那些飞舞的蝴蝶，那些温和的风，那些静静的日子，还有不远处的山脉和海洋，在在让人喜爱。他们酷似农人，各自在本位上，默默成长，或结出硕果，或献出其应有的本分，无私地奉献出自己。其情操是伟大的。

只可惜，人类以其聪明才智，制器利用，创造发明，文明越来越发皇，科技越来越发达，却对大自然造成了伤害。越来越多破坏，越来越多污染，越来越多天灾，譬如动不动就山崩，土石流奔泻，譬如动不动就淹大水，漫流成灾，譬如臭氧层破了洞，引发气候的暖化，天气越来越异常，也因此而使鱼群成群死亡，天下鸟雨，引起最近北极冰山的融化，或可能使水面扩大，部分地区许会被淹没而从地球上消失。我因而写环境保护的题材，让人们知所警惕，尽力保护我们安居的地球，让我们与万物可以永久并存下去。

我今年已经72岁有余，是一个“货真价实”、“如假包换”的老人。机器用久了，必有磨损；人年纪一大，身体同样会有磨损。其征象就是机能退化，每有这里酸那里痛的现象，甚且不时有病痛来袭。老年如何生活？生活的情况如何？如何与亲朋好友相处？酸痛、生病时如何处理？如何安度老年？泄气？徒叹许多事做起来已无能为力，郁郁寡欢，成为一个孤独老人吗？不是的。人老了还是有用的，至少其一生累积的经验和智慧是难得的，不能悲观的，应乐观以对，作好生涯规划，多所奋发。最后一程，虽说是落日黄昏，还是要严肃度过，要好好地走完。我以散文来书写，也以诗来表达。我是1998年提前届龄6年退休的。退休后，虽曾经历病痛的打击，我还是勇敢承受，善予处理，而且自认处理得很不错，生活得很好。这是我所写退休后生活的诗“彩绘晚霞”：

退休那天，我突然惊觉
太阳已经西斜
氛围异常
哦，岁月已经黄昏了

退休没什么不好
黄昏没什么不好
我照样可以彩绘
──虽则彩绘的是晚霞
却能彩绘得更为美好

不是吗？虽是老人，虽是晚年，虽在日暮黄昏，我照样可以把晚霞彩绘得很好，活得多彩多姿；非但如此，我还自认把晚霞彩绘得更好，活得更多彩多姿。

人生不能尽如人意，将来谁也没能预料。我曾写过一首诗，叫“拔河”，就文本内容看，是写的科技文明和环境保护两者间的拔河，其实是多意的，另有所指的：

这场精彩的超世纪大竞赛
哪方会赢呢？
还是势均力敌，永远保持生态平衡？

拔河吧！让科技文明和环境保护作生死拔河。而我们人也不时在拔河，和情感拔河，和学业拔河，和事业拔河，和命运拔河……但不论如何，即使现在已是老人，仍要记得，要发誓，如我在“甘蔗的话”所写：

任你撕去身心吸去血，
我只是一心想贡献给人类！

2011/11/16 于新庄

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 70”. Therefore, in addition to periodical summary, I regard the collection as a new starting point in my new life, which may be the readers’ guess.
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 Taiwan has been an animated scene: various styles and various schools of poems. But I do not follow any other school than my own pastoral school. I go my own way by tilling my own land, sowing my own seeds, and cultivating my own crops,

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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