Look at the stack.

Author: Zhou Zuoren
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-06-01
Features: After Li Po's death, now displaying his will, I only feel that the phrase "the person and the lute both perished" from the ancients truly captures the sentiment. There's nothing much else to say. Li Po is gone, and such exquisite writing will never be replicated by anyone else. However, these few books remain in the world, and Li Po's literary achievements will endure for a long time. Chinese new poetry has a history of fifteen or sixteen years, yet everyone hasn't put in much effort, and there's a lack of those who persevere in continuing the effort. Among them, Li Po stands out as the only loyal comrade. He painstakingly founded poetry journals and contributed to the growth of new poetry—this is a remarkable achievement. He also devoted himself to creation, from Poems of Li Po to The Tiger Collection, showing clear progress. Even someone as uninitiated as I can see this. In prose, Li Po's achievements are also significant. In my personal opinion, Chinese prose has several schools: the style of Hu Shi is fresh and clear, good at reasoning and teaching, like watermelons with sweet flesh in every part. The style of Feng Bo and Ming Yi is astringent like green fruits. Li Po can be grouped with Ms. Bing Xin, resembling a pear—graceful, crisp, blending classical, vernacular, and European elements into the vernacular, elevating the language of ordinary people into a more expressive form. This is a great contribution even in terms of stylistic evolution. The position and value of Li Po's poetry, prose, and fiction in new literature will be thoroughly examined and published by fair-minded literary historians in the future. Here, I only offer a general reflection, feeling that his half-life's achievements are already enough to be immortal. Yet, his demise at this vibrant age, especially during this period of artistic "rebirth," is a great loss to Chinese literature. However, what we regret most about Li Po's death is the loss of the person. The loss of literature is public, shared among many, each receiving only a portion. But the loss of a person is private—those who share in it are fewer, yet the weight is heavier. In terms of our relationship, Li Po and I were not particularly close, and our interactions were infrequent. Thus, while there isn't much in my memory that evokes sorrow when I think of him, my admiration for him as a person remains deep. Indeed, as Hu Shi said, Li Po was a very lovable person. He had his own beliefs and styles, perhaps even a few quirks. But his demeanor and speech were always kind and sincere, making him seem approachable. Almost everyone who met him was influenced by this, developing a fondness for him. Even his minor flaws were like a small mole on his face, contributing to his charm and earning only smiles and nods, not disdain or resentment. Some jokingly called Li Po a "poet-philosopher" or laughed at his Indian hat, but even these jests were filled with goodwill, much like an old classmate recounting a past story of being punished with a ruler. Even writers of different schools who criticized him, I believe, did so only because of his standing, not because of him as an individual. Hu Shi also called Li Po an "honest idealist," and I agree with this, finding him even more admirable for it. In these times, everything else is abundant, but honesty is long gone—even in Java, it might be scarce. Yet Li Po still clung to his innocent and sincere nature, truly rare in the world.