陈 辉

Edit: Administrator日期:2020-09-13 18:09:57Number of views: 14081


 

    Chen Hui, whose real name was Wu Shenghui, was born in Shuangqiaoping, Changde County on September 2, 1920。At the age of 7, he went to Changde Ziqiang Primary School with his mother to study, and at the age of 13, he was admitted to Lichangde Middle School in Hunan Province. In 1938, he participated in the "Minsheng Team" of the school, actively propagated the situation of the Anti-Japanese War, organized anti-Japanese wall newspapers, and joined the Communist Party of China in May。That year, went to Yan 'an United Assembly to study。In 1939, he was assigned to the news agency of the Shanxi-Chahar-Hebei Border area as a reporter, and wrote many famous poems on the anti-Japanese battlefield to reflect the Anti-Japanese War struggle。From the autumn of 1940 to 1944, he was transferred to Pingxi and Laizhuo counties, serving as the propaganda member of the county Youth Rescue Society, the director of the Youth Rescue Society, the political commissar of the Armed Work team, the executive member of the County Committee of the Communist Party of China and the secretary of the District Committee, and together with the people of Pingxi and Laizhuo, fought bravely with the enemy。On February 8, 1945, due to the informant of the traitors, Han Village was surrounded by the enemy, fought hard for several days, heroic sacrifice, at the age of 24。


    Chen Hui created dozens of poems such as "Song for the Motherland" during his lifetime, and he expressed his will through the poem, writing: "Motherland, under the butcher's knife of the enemy, I will not drop a tear, I laugh, because ah, I - your lavish son, your defender, his life, left you a lofty 'praise word'."。I sing, the motherland, in the loess pile where my bones are buried, there will be love flowers growing。"Showed his revolutionary spirit of patriotic dedication。


Works of Chen Hui


Sing for the motherland


   我,
  埋怨,
  I'm not a piano player。
  My motherland,
  因为
  I belong to you,
  A big spender
  The son of the working people。
  I deeply
  deeply
  爱你!

  我呵,
  But can't,
  Like a Marseillaise singer,
  In the hot sun,
  At the barricade where the Paris Commune fought,
  Plucking the six-string wire,
  Let it out
  That shook the world,
  Man's first song
  The most beautiful song,
  As me
  Congratulations to you。

  Neither will I.
  Riding on the back of a cow,
  Playing the piccolo。
  Nor will he,
  On the threshing floor in August,
  Lift up the bamboo flute,
  softly
  Blow gently;
  Jean tone
  Floating over the mud wall,
  In the shade of the willows by the river。

  然而,
  When I look up,
  When I saw you,
  My country's
  The high blue sky,
  The vast open country,
  The white clouds on the side of the day
  Floating gently by,
  或是
  The little red flower,
  Smiling
  Stand up from the crack in the rock。
  Oh, my heart,
  How excited,
  Like my hometown,
  The Hmong girl,
  On a bright August night,
  Jumping on a beat like crazy,
  …………
  O my country,
  I belong to you,
  A purple-black one
  Young warrior。
  When I picked up my
  The old "old Mauser",
  Across the plains,
  Catch sight of
  The black towers of the enemy,
  And that turret up there
  The bloody red ointment flag flying,
  My blood,
  It stirs,
  Like outside the customs
  On the snowy prairie,
  Like a great storm,
  Came in a hurry,
  The iron riders of the motherland...
  My motherland,
  With the milk of love,
  Raised me;
  而我,
  And with my own flesh and blood,
  Guard you!

  Maybe tomorrow,
  I will fall down;
  也许
  In the midst of the slayings,
  The tip of the enemy's gun,
  Pierced my belly;
  Maybe,
  I shall die speechless on the gallows,
  Or by the enemy
  Into the kennel。
  看啊,
  That vicious Wolf dog,
  Sharpen the tips of your teeth,
  exophthalmia
  The bright green light...

  My motherland,
  Under the sword of the enemy,
  I will not shed a tear,
  I laughed,
  Because, uh,
  我——
  Your free-spending son,
  Your guardian,
  His life,
  I left you a song
  Lofty 'compliments'。
  I sing,
  My motherland,
  On the pile of dirt where my bones lie,
  And the flowers of love will grow。
  
On August 10, 1942, the first draft was published in Badu。
  
Sing for the Garden of Eden


  That's who said
  "The north is sad.?
  不!
  My Jinchaji oh,
  Your humble farm,
  Your rustic countryside,
  Your land of fire
  它比
  The paradise of Eden,
  And beautiful!

  呵,你——
  Our new Garden of Eden,
  I sing for you。
  My Jinchaji oh,
  你是
  Under fire
  The new land,
  You are our new village。
  In every valley,
  All flashing
  毛泽东的光辉。
  Low huts,
  It's our temple。
  Life -- revolution,
  The people - God!
  The people are God!

  And my song,
  It will be
  The guns of the guardians of Eden!
  My song,
  你呵,
  To sing more tenaciously,
  虽然
  Oh, my song,
  Is rough,
  And there's no brilliance...
  My Jin, Chaji,
  Maybe,
  My singing stops tomorrow,
  My life
  Torn apart by the enemy,
  然而,
  My flesh and blood,
  它将
  Into a fragrant flower,
  Drive in your way。

  The flowers
  Red is loyalty,
  Yellow is pure,
  White is love,
  Green is happiness,
  Purple is tenacious。
  
Write a poem

  A hero is not without tears,
  Not before the enemy。
  A seven-foot male,
  Willing to donate to the motherland。
  Heroes throw blue blood,
  Become a red cuckoo。
  After her husband's death,
  Shame to kill dog traitors。

Organizer: Hunan Changde Poetry Society
Submission email: cdscxh@163.com submission review time: 9:00-17:00
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Hunan Changde poetry Society
Hunan Changde poetry Society

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