The Ocean
Broad is her mind
Deep is her soul
Grand Canyon
The land and the sky were once in love
Behold the deep canyon
It is the scar from that romance
Love of a mosquito
The kiss that cost your life
Has vanished without a trace
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Danse Esmeralda (Poem)
Danse Esmeralda 08/09/06, By XP
When the sun has hidden the last ray of light
Danse, Esmeralda
The bleeding bonfire shines on your hair dark as night
The handbell tinkles like wild rose
Rivers and mountains faraway in the land of home
Blossom on the earth of this strange place
Your eyes are brighter than the stars
The smile on your face fly along with the fluttering skirt
That weightless waist brings the smell of Spring
And ecstasy to the heart of wanderers
You offer him cool water under the scorching sun
Danse, Esmeralda
My soul spreads its wings above the fire of hell
The travelers who stop for you on the plaza
And the old lady who waits no longer
Are so alike lonely inside
I sobbed quietly after a flashing joy
Danse, Esmeralda
Even beauty is not a promise of eternity
You perished in the season of cherry flower
Your love lingers on the guitar of summer
My broken heart falls in this vale of tears
Suffers the torture of agony one after another
Danse, Esmeralda
That is such a fair picture in the early morn
The memory about you brings me back over and over
Danse, Esmeralda
Is it there not any more bitter
Have you found the happiness of a roamer?
When the sun has hidden the last ray of light
Danse, Esmeralda
The bleeding bonfire shines on your hair dark as night
The handbell tinkles like wild rose
Rivers and mountains faraway in the land of home
Blossom on the earth of this strange place
Your eyes are brighter than the stars
The smile on your face fly along with the fluttering skirt
That weightless waist brings the smell of Spring
And ecstasy to the heart of wanderers
You offer him cool water under the scorching sun
Danse, Esmeralda
My soul spreads its wings above the fire of hell
The travelers who stop for you on the plaza
And the old lady who waits no longer
Are so alike lonely inside
I sobbed quietly after a flashing joy
Danse, Esmeralda
Even beauty is not a promise of eternity
You perished in the season of cherry flower
Your love lingers on the guitar of summer
My broken heart falls in this vale of tears
Suffers the torture of agony one after another
Danse, Esmeralda
That is such a fair picture in the early morn
The memory about you brings me back over and over
Danse, Esmeralda
Is it there not any more bitter
Have you found the happiness of a roamer?
In The Silver Moonlight (Poem)
In The Silver Moonlight 09/01/06, By XP
In the silver moonlight
Wind from the far Caucasian mountain
Touched the chest of the wayfarer
Gentle as Mother's hands
Softly opening the backpack so slender
In the silver moonlight
There was peace even without a dream
The heart that has long broken
Bit by bit melted into the night
Perhaps recovering to what it had been
In the silver moonlight
I wiped off all my tears in silence
In tomorrow's journey I won't be forgetting
One night a melody was played
For the youth that's going and coming
In the silver moonlight
Wind from the far Caucasian mountain
Touched the chest of the wayfarer
Gentle as Mother's hands
Softly opening the backpack so slender
In the silver moonlight
There was peace even without a dream
The heart that has long broken
Bit by bit melted into the night
Perhaps recovering to what it had been
In the silver moonlight
I wiped off all my tears in silence
In tomorrow's journey I won't be forgetting
One night a melody was played
For the youth that's going and coming
Love Letters (For a writing competition)
Love Letters
By XP
My Dear Mountain,
Your name I dare not whisper, not even in this letter upon which you will never set your eyes. I am writing it in peace, on this lovely afternoon, to you, or rather to myself. Outside of the window birds are flying in a clear blue sky, gracefully white clouds taking their gentle but long journey toward an unforeseeable end. When I think of you I descry in my mind a vast mountain in the distance melting away to the horizon. You are there, tall and solid. On my face warm sunlight sheds, and I feel content and hope.
For long I have fared. My feet are weary, but not nearly as such as my heart, laden with burdens of doubt and pain along the way. No longer am I the innocent, fearless young girl who dreamed a world of only the bright and the true. At times my steps go astray. I look around, not knowing what I should seek in this world fraught with bewilderment and insecurity. Yet in the dark night a voice hidden inside reminds me that, as said by Victor Hugo, "the supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved". The one faith without which I shall perish is love, the ultimate comfort and relief. Still of love I know very little, as it were. With all the efforts I can only discern a fair lady in veil, radiant light shining through her elegant figure and raiment. Generous she is, she dwells in a far land of wonder and mystery. In our world each one of us may catch a different glimpse of her.
Years back I for the first time attempted to love in a fit of youthful zest. Now all that remains is a scar laid deep, covered by the dust of time. In the throes of the loss my eyes were open to imperfection and realness of the world. Little do I regret, for aside from that I learned what I wanted not. I have also become aware that the love for which I long is so rare that few would have the luck of finding it in a lifetime. It is a pity to think that through endless empty darkness we came into life, and shall leave without what our hearts truly desire and never have the choice of returning. But many have endured that and so can I. I need, however, to know that it exists, that the soft rain from heaven might fall on my hands one day.
Thus far in my life I have met a few wonderful people worth unconditional love. No one else touched the depth of my heart as you did though. Never have I beheld someone who combines so perfectly many talents: a mind of brilliance, hands of skills and a heart of strength. Indeed a lot I learned from you, even though I have not properly spoken of my gratitude. That is not all. Sometimes I see myself in your humbleness, your liking for music, even your little burst of subtle temper or stuborness. How admirable are the strong determination and quickness in solving problems that I lack! I shall certainly not leave out the twinkling light in your keen eyes when you smile. Did I not feel something special? The answer is of little importance, for were there a flame of yearning I had quenched it ere its spreading. My respect for love and for you is too deep. I could never bear being a source of slightest disturbance even in my own secrecy.
I am sorry for the unfortunate loss for both of us. Sorrier am I for the following awkward conflict and tension between us. I was striken hard by the cruelty of life. And though I have not confessed it to anyone I care for you too much, such that little discordance was over amplified into resentment. Long in pain I was, but finally I have revived. Naught has changed since, if I count in not the growing harmony in my mind. A lot of you I do not know, and never shall, like as not. But that matters not, or for the best it is. Yonder you stand with other marvelous figures, my heart soothed and pleased. In days that will come to pass, I shall walk with strength and resolution along whichever path I choose to take. It may even be likely that I shall meet someone with whom I can exchange love, for as precious as love is, she never forsakes one unless she is forsaken first.
Valentine's day is approaching. It is probable that I will not be able to speak to you of my wishes - you may find them queer if I do. So here they are: Merry be you and your loved ones! Happy and healthy be you all! Merry be all in this world who deserve true happiness! May light fall on those who need it!
Happy Valentine's day and Happy every day,
When_Swallow_Flies
**************************
"Love Me and Despair"
My Love,
I have come. From the beginning of ageless Time I have come; at the instant a lightning smote your window I have come. Through the core of stars brighter than the Sun, through motionless coldness darker than the void. Through life and desolation I have come. I have plodded for eternity, for I must come to you, my love.
Do you hear my whisper? I speak your name and say to you in the stillness of night: Open your eyes, my love. Behold the darkness of light, behold the mercilessness of shadow. Touch the empty deeps of your soul that are beyond good and evil. In your dream you tremble, like the last leaf in the gale. Have no fear, my love, come to me, come to my arms and seize me. I it is who am your only salvation. Come to me, come with me to the road of no returning.
Hold me tight and I shall lead you to the abyss toward bliss and misery. Waste everything that you held precious heretofore. All shall be blazed into ashes of forgetfulness. You only with me, and I only with you. Together we fly. Together we shall rise and fall. Fire in Hell flares more blindingly than the greatest truth, yet it is naught compared to your desire. In the flame of anguish we tear joy beyond enduring. The world is of no more question; life reveals its meaning. Let us love, let us love into oblivion.
When all is silent, tell me, my love, do you not see in my eyes beauty surpassing all the oceans on this planet and all the stars in the universe? Is it not that my smile warms you more than the fireplace of home on the coldest night of winter? Weep not, for I laugh with tears. My voice echoes in the bottomless chasm of love. You have followed the steps of doom and fled from hollowness to me. Do you not know, my love, that the black hole of love has no escape? With the tips of my fingers I can crush your beating heart when a flower is blooming. Speak of no wrong, for love has no right or wrong. Love is despair.
On this earth too many powers clothe themselves with the tender garb of love. Mock them, for the delicate love shall revenge itself with power beyond reckoning. This power bestow upon me, my love, and I confer on you mine. We shall wander abreast, rejoice and suffer, till the far end of all.
My love, I have come, hither at your door. To take my hand or not, I leave it free for you to choose. But hark! Fate is knocking for me. I shall see your face as the first light of dawn falls, and I know, my love. I know you shall love me and despair.
Yours,
Angel of dark
02/04/06
By XP
My Dear Mountain,
Your name I dare not whisper, not even in this letter upon which you will never set your eyes. I am writing it in peace, on this lovely afternoon, to you, or rather to myself. Outside of the window birds are flying in a clear blue sky, gracefully white clouds taking their gentle but long journey toward an unforeseeable end. When I think of you I descry in my mind a vast mountain in the distance melting away to the horizon. You are there, tall and solid. On my face warm sunlight sheds, and I feel content and hope.
For long I have fared. My feet are weary, but not nearly as such as my heart, laden with burdens of doubt and pain along the way. No longer am I the innocent, fearless young girl who dreamed a world of only the bright and the true. At times my steps go astray. I look around, not knowing what I should seek in this world fraught with bewilderment and insecurity. Yet in the dark night a voice hidden inside reminds me that, as said by Victor Hugo, "the supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved". The one faith without which I shall perish is love, the ultimate comfort and relief. Still of love I know very little, as it were. With all the efforts I can only discern a fair lady in veil, radiant light shining through her elegant figure and raiment. Generous she is, she dwells in a far land of wonder and mystery. In our world each one of us may catch a different glimpse of her.
Years back I for the first time attempted to love in a fit of youthful zest. Now all that remains is a scar laid deep, covered by the dust of time. In the throes of the loss my eyes were open to imperfection and realness of the world. Little do I regret, for aside from that I learned what I wanted not. I have also become aware that the love for which I long is so rare that few would have the luck of finding it in a lifetime. It is a pity to think that through endless empty darkness we came into life, and shall leave without what our hearts truly desire and never have the choice of returning. But many have endured that and so can I. I need, however, to know that it exists, that the soft rain from heaven might fall on my hands one day.
Thus far in my life I have met a few wonderful people worth unconditional love. No one else touched the depth of my heart as you did though. Never have I beheld someone who combines so perfectly many talents: a mind of brilliance, hands of skills and a heart of strength. Indeed a lot I learned from you, even though I have not properly spoken of my gratitude. That is not all. Sometimes I see myself in your humbleness, your liking for music, even your little burst of subtle temper or stuborness. How admirable are the strong determination and quickness in solving problems that I lack! I shall certainly not leave out the twinkling light in your keen eyes when you smile. Did I not feel something special? The answer is of little importance, for were there a flame of yearning I had quenched it ere its spreading. My respect for love and for you is too deep. I could never bear being a source of slightest disturbance even in my own secrecy.
I am sorry for the unfortunate loss for both of us. Sorrier am I for the following awkward conflict and tension between us. I was striken hard by the cruelty of life. And though I have not confessed it to anyone I care for you too much, such that little discordance was over amplified into resentment. Long in pain I was, but finally I have revived. Naught has changed since, if I count in not the growing harmony in my mind. A lot of you I do not know, and never shall, like as not. But that matters not, or for the best it is. Yonder you stand with other marvelous figures, my heart soothed and pleased. In days that will come to pass, I shall walk with strength and resolution along whichever path I choose to take. It may even be likely that I shall meet someone with whom I can exchange love, for as precious as love is, she never forsakes one unless she is forsaken first.
Valentine's day is approaching. It is probable that I will not be able to speak to you of my wishes - you may find them queer if I do. So here they are: Merry be you and your loved ones! Happy and healthy be you all! Merry be all in this world who deserve true happiness! May light fall on those who need it!
Happy Valentine's day and Happy every day,
When_Swallow_Flies
**************************
"Love Me and Despair"
My Love,
I have come. From the beginning of ageless Time I have come; at the instant a lightning smote your window I have come. Through the core of stars brighter than the Sun, through motionless coldness darker than the void. Through life and desolation I have come. I have plodded for eternity, for I must come to you, my love.
Do you hear my whisper? I speak your name and say to you in the stillness of night: Open your eyes, my love. Behold the darkness of light, behold the mercilessness of shadow. Touch the empty deeps of your soul that are beyond good and evil. In your dream you tremble, like the last leaf in the gale. Have no fear, my love, come to me, come to my arms and seize me. I it is who am your only salvation. Come to me, come with me to the road of no returning.
Hold me tight and I shall lead you to the abyss toward bliss and misery. Waste everything that you held precious heretofore. All shall be blazed into ashes of forgetfulness. You only with me, and I only with you. Together we fly. Together we shall rise and fall. Fire in Hell flares more blindingly than the greatest truth, yet it is naught compared to your desire. In the flame of anguish we tear joy beyond enduring. The world is of no more question; life reveals its meaning. Let us love, let us love into oblivion.
When all is silent, tell me, my love, do you not see in my eyes beauty surpassing all the oceans on this planet and all the stars in the universe? Is it not that my smile warms you more than the fireplace of home on the coldest night of winter? Weep not, for I laugh with tears. My voice echoes in the bottomless chasm of love. You have followed the steps of doom and fled from hollowness to me. Do you not know, my love, that the black hole of love has no escape? With the tips of my fingers I can crush your beating heart when a flower is blooming. Speak of no wrong, for love has no right or wrong. Love is despair.
On this earth too many powers clothe themselves with the tender garb of love. Mock them, for the delicate love shall revenge itself with power beyond reckoning. This power bestow upon me, my love, and I confer on you mine. We shall wander abreast, rejoice and suffer, till the far end of all.
My love, I have come, hither at your door. To take my hand or not, I leave it free for you to choose. But hark! Fate is knocking for me. I shall see your face as the first light of dawn falls, and I know, my love. I know you shall love me and despair.
Yours,
Angel of dark
02/04/06
Fireworks (Poem)
Fireworks 11/12/05, By XP
I remember in the plaza of late fall
There gathered a big crowd
Some people talked aloud
Some people exchanged smiles
They were all waiting for miracle to kindle
The dusk that had just departed
I held my breath, looked at the first tender
Shy as the first kiss of lovers, quickly hid
Behind the sparse stars long forgotten
Moonlight was shining and said don't sorrow
Your sentimental heart
Lo and behold
There is another flower
That illuminates the trembling mouth sending a soft sigh
The blooming is so elegant
It rises, rises
And pauses to impregnate
Many many small lights for the next splinter moment
They were isolated, awash, thick, light
They were red, green, purple, golden
Ah
Fire suddenly spread throughout both of my eyes
All the starts and ends were awaken
Who are falling from heaven so determinedly?
As if it were only for the innocence at the very beginning
With tears inside I looked up
At millions of ardent lives going by without an answer
If all has been arranged long before, fireworks
I will remember your radiant happiness
I remember in the plaza of late fall
There gathered a big crowd
Some people talked aloud
Some people exchanged smiles
They were all waiting for miracle to kindle
The dusk that had just departed
I held my breath, looked at the first tender
Shy as the first kiss of lovers, quickly hid
Behind the sparse stars long forgotten
Moonlight was shining and said don't sorrow
Your sentimental heart
Lo and behold
There is another flower
That illuminates the trembling mouth sending a soft sigh
The blooming is so elegant
It rises, rises
And pauses to impregnate
Many many small lights for the next splinter moment
They were isolated, awash, thick, light
They were red, green, purple, golden
Ah
Fire suddenly spread throughout both of my eyes
All the starts and ends were awaken
Who are falling from heaven so determinedly?
As if it were only for the innocence at the very beginning
With tears inside I looked up
At millions of ardent lives going by without an answer
If all has been arranged long before, fireworks
I will remember your radiant happiness
Absurd Memory (Poem)
Absurd Memory
By XP
This is a time
When absurdity exists no longer
Ideas and thoughts piling up in flee market
Emotions tagged with price
We are no more surprised
Drunk, people frivolously talk about
The tender feelings
That have been dressed up
Or Madam butterfly
Wearing combat boots
Yet in a breeze
From some corner of the Autumn
I saw an unfamiliar look
From a pair of unfamiliar eyes
Like the deep ocean
And it silenced instantly
The dusk of the whole city
10/07/04
By XP
This is a time
When absurdity exists no longer
Ideas and thoughts piling up in flee market
Emotions tagged with price
We are no more surprised
Drunk, people frivolously talk about
The tender feelings
That have been dressed up
Or Madam butterfly
Wearing combat boots
Yet in a breeze
From some corner of the Autumn
I saw an unfamiliar look
From a pair of unfamiliar eyes
Like the deep ocean
And it silenced instantly
The dusk of the whole city
10/07/04
Hibernation (Poem)
Hibernation 05/12/06, By XP
Yes, I've found my peace
On this summer afternoon
torpid and sweet
Moist wind threading the sunlight
Future is as distant as the past
Around some corner
Leans a thin young girl
With slender, bemused look
Morning spreads its wings
Flies toward the dusk
Vague music walks from one dream
Into another
Happiness it is
As long as my eyes shut
Yes, I've found my peace
On this summer afternoon
torpid and sweet
Moist wind threading the sunlight
Future is as distant as the past
Around some corner
Leans a thin young girl
With slender, bemused look
Morning spreads its wings
Flies toward the dusk
Vague music walks from one dream
Into another
Happiness it is
As long as my eyes shut
Pink Rose (Poem)
Pink Rose
By XP 12/01/05
I saw a pink rose on the internet
She blossomed quietly
Sunlight cast broken shadows
Every petal was so elegant and perfect
In a flash they seemed to be
Touching so many gentle memories
But only for a split second!
Other thoughts engrossed me like faraway tides
That innocent pink color
Is what Human watchfully choose
After countless generations of artificial breeding
I moved away my eyes
Thinking of the blue flower in the dream
Forgotten in the wind, softly swinging
People are busy under the pink rose
Playing games of heart and body
Beautiful temptations naked
In this prosperous world, if its dazzling dress peeled
The most ancient puzzle still hides in the white pistil
Some is inevitable
Some is unreachable
I am an inept yet unfortunately sober outsider
Helpless tears dribble in my heart
Occasionally I stare at the grayish blue sky
An now
In one rose garden at one corner of this planet
She has turned into ashes
Perhaps on a fertile field in nature
A celestial song was gone with the wind
By XP 12/01/05
I saw a pink rose on the internet
She blossomed quietly
Sunlight cast broken shadows
Every petal was so elegant and perfect
In a flash they seemed to be
Touching so many gentle memories
But only for a split second!
Other thoughts engrossed me like faraway tides
That innocent pink color
Is what Human watchfully choose
After countless generations of artificial breeding
I moved away my eyes
Thinking of the blue flower in the dream
Forgotten in the wind, softly swinging
People are busy under the pink rose
Playing games of heart and body
Beautiful temptations naked
In this prosperous world, if its dazzling dress peeled
The most ancient puzzle still hides in the white pistil
Some is inevitable
Some is unreachable
I am an inept yet unfortunately sober outsider
Helpless tears dribble in my heart
Occasionally I stare at the grayish blue sky
An now
In one rose garden at one corner of this planet
She has turned into ashes
Perhaps on a fertile field in nature
A celestial song was gone with the wind
To Bilbo (Two Poems)
Sleep
- To Bilbo, E=MC3, Espoir
02/27/05
Rest, my dear
In a complete and crystal dream
Light shed through the cloud
Will surround you, pellucid
As deep lake water
Embryo in the uterus
The quiet clock goes to eternity
Do you simply run
Climb and jump, Freedom
Is the heavy rain in the afternoon
That irrigates all the sweet fruits
I proceed, carrying my sins
Exploring with my own species
I reach for sunshine, truth
That falls to our world
You don’t know you saved me
I will finish the journey left
Endure anguish, enjoy happiness
There will be one day
When my time comes
Then, would you hate me?
If I could hold your hand
And pick a flower from Spring
I watch you from outside the window
Soft breath, no pains
Sleep, my dear
Elegy
12/07/05
In the late night I woke up from a dream
A song haunted my heart
The grief that has been lurking for long
Turned into tears on a distant violin string
Do you know?
That autumn has passed
Even in the warmest south
Leaves and grasses are falling
In a galaxy I cannot see
With whom are you meeting?
In the days without you
For a thousand, a thousand times I tried to forget
At times your name slipped off my tongue
No longer shoving waves in the ocean of my mind
Only on this winter night
The helplessness on your face
And the agony you could not speak
Suddenly came to me as tides
Into the eyes that have long been dry
My poor thing
Those moments and many others in the past
Have etched me so deeply
That I cannot forgive life
Just as I cannot forgive myself
Has your pain ended?
I hope for all your happiness
I am still here struggling, rising and falling
Blindly writing the sorrow of an elegy
- To Bilbo, E=MC3, Espoir
02/27/05
Rest, my dear
In a complete and crystal dream
Light shed through the cloud
Will surround you, pellucid
As deep lake water
Embryo in the uterus
The quiet clock goes to eternity
Do you simply run
Climb and jump, Freedom
Is the heavy rain in the afternoon
That irrigates all the sweet fruits
I proceed, carrying my sins
Exploring with my own species
I reach for sunshine, truth
That falls to our world
You don’t know you saved me
I will finish the journey left
Endure anguish, enjoy happiness
There will be one day
When my time comes
Then, would you hate me?
If I could hold your hand
And pick a flower from Spring
I watch you from outside the window
Soft breath, no pains
Sleep, my dear
Elegy
12/07/05
In the late night I woke up from a dream
A song haunted my heart
The grief that has been lurking for long
Turned into tears on a distant violin string
Do you know?
That autumn has passed
Even in the warmest south
Leaves and grasses are falling
In a galaxy I cannot see
With whom are you meeting?
In the days without you
For a thousand, a thousand times I tried to forget
At times your name slipped off my tongue
No longer shoving waves in the ocean of my mind
Only on this winter night
The helplessness on your face
And the agony you could not speak
Suddenly came to me as tides
Into the eyes that have long been dry
My poor thing
Those moments and many others in the past
Have etched me so deeply
That I cannot forgive life
Just as I cannot forgive myself
Has your pain ended?
I hope for all your happiness
I am still here struggling, rising and falling
Blindly writing the sorrow of an elegy
The Tragedy of Blind Belief
The Tragedy of Blind Belief
By XP
Generally speaking, I do not like war movies. War is about man killing man, fast and undisguised. And often times it is about a large number of people slaughtering each other mercilessly for the sake of a few who hide themselves in the safest spots. Traditionally there have been two kinds of stereotypical war movies in my view. The western type emphasizes a super hero, who is a master of killing. Usually he wins the heart of a beautiful woman by being a hero with all the blood in his hand. The oriental type, on the other hand, focuses on the nature of the war. There are the righteous and the wrong, the good and the evil, sharply demarcated as black and white. The righteous side is glorified by eternal truth, hence everyone does heroic sacrificing deeds whereas none of the evil guys has a heart. Perhaps in a war, the hateful war in which all lose, many of such stories indeed happen. However, to me a war movie that single-mindedly or unilaterally portrays the picture out of the consideration of material interest or political propaganda could not bring the audience anything meaningful other than a momentary excitement or an awkward moral lesson.
The 2000 “Enemy at the Gates”, however, is a very well made war movie. Of course, I say this not because it carries all the basics of a typical western war movie as summarized above, but because of its fine depiction of the inside of those involved in a war, including those of the heroes, from the angle of humanism. The movie is based on a true historic character: former Soviet Union soldier Vassily Zaitzev, a great sniper with unbelievable skills, killing over 250 enemies during the second world war, including 221 in the battlefield of Stalingrad and 11 snipers. It tells the story of how a shy young shepherd from Urals became a national hero with his amazing shots, calm wisdom and honest courage in the cruel battle of street fighting. The plot outline is as follows: In 1942, Stalingrad, both Soviet Union and German suffered from tremendous losses and low morale. Soviet general Kruschev, following the order of the boss, was determined to resist and hold fast to the city that bore the name of Stalin, at whatever prices it might take. To inspire the red army soldiers, he accepted the proposition of a second-class political officer Danilov: to set a heroic icon as an example of bravery and love of the motherland. The talented crack gunner Vassily became that icon. The Germans quickly responded to it by sending a prestigious snipe specialist major Konig from Berlin to kill Vassily. After a long, hard and brutal duel, Vassily finally shot the major, for himself, for his country, for those who loved him and lost lives for him.
Doubtlessly, after more than half a century, when we look back upon the history, the world owes the brave red army for their huge sacrifice in their defeating the Nazi Germans. However, when it comes to each individual life fighting in that war, the movie presented things that shocked me to certain extent. Perhaps due to the background in which I grew up, I have always pictured every Soviet Union red army soldier only with iron will and determination. I have never imagined that in the midst of all the sacrifice in the bloody battle, there are ones who were frightened and wanted to retreat. Neither have I imagined a loving mother straight up and down, after hearing mistakenly that her son betrayed the country and had gone over to the Germans, would think that “perhaps he’s made the right choice”. Her brave little Sacha collected intelligence about the major at the risk and eventually paying the price of life, just because he so innocently wanted Vassily to “win”. Even Vassily himself was not a perfect hero in the traditional sense. As a sniper, he clearly saw the enemy through the sight “if he has a wedding ring” or “if he shaved that morning”; he saw them not as uniforms but as human faces, and “those faces don’t go away”. He was brave; but after realizing the impossible skills and tactic of major Konig, he found Danilov and told him that “you have to stop writing about me. You promised a victory I can’t deliver.” He fought with every bit of his energy; but he could also miss the ideal chance to shot out of mere fatigue and sleepiness. He devoted himself to the country; but his ideal was not to give all he had to the cause of communism, but to run a factory, becoming the man who “sees and knows everything” there. All those figures, those who sacrificed themselves for the greater good, were first human and then courageous and respectable heroes.
But some people did not realize this. They were blinded by the shining, perfect ideal and could not see the world or themselves clearly in the objective way. The character Danilov in the movie carried such typical trait. Perhaps many despise him as a “snake”, I personally feel the deepest and most painful sympathy for him. As a young promising political officer, Danilov was well educated and sincerely believed in communism. He believed in truth, believed in his own pursuit for the truth, but failed to observe himself and others in real forms. Although his belief was all equality, deep down he also considered himself “born for a different purpose” and more useful than those fighting in the battleground. Both Danilov and Vassily fell in love with a beautiful female soldier Tania. But no matter how Danilov tried and how reserved Vassily was at the beginning, the girl’s heart of course only went to the hero. Danilov was integrated, yet he could not see his own selfishness. He was sincere, yet he could not see his own envy. He used his power to transfer Tania for he wanted her to be safe. He let Sacha risk his life for intelligence, because he had to answer to Kruschev with a final victory. After finding out Tania’s love for Vassily, he was so overwhelmed by jealousy that he wrote in fury a report that in that circumstance could kill a person: Vassily’s “indescribable duration of his duel with the Nazi shot and public defeated comments could only be due to his lack of belief of the communist ideal”. Well, no wonder a lot of audiences do not like him.
I sympathize, because I see a piece of myself and perhaps of many others from Danilov. I cared for truth and the beautiful so much that I did not have the courage to confront the real self and the real world, making small or large mistakes without knowing. I know that Danilov was sincere, because when Tania was hit by shred in a commotion, he knelt down in front of the girl in blood who he loved so dearly. He shouted an aching cry, disclosing and tearing the deepest bottom of his own mind. He found Vassily who was still in duel with the major and painfully spoke the following words. “I’ve been such a fool, Vassily. Man will always be man. There is no new man. We tried so hard to create a society that was equal, where there would be nothing to envy on neighbor. But there will always be something to envy, a smile, a friendship… In this world, or even a soviet one, there will always be rich and poor, rich in gifts, poor in gifts, rich in love, poor in love… Tania is dead. She was going to come back for you. She was right, you are a good man…” In a despondent composure Danilov made a decision, “Let me help you Vassily. Something useful for a change. Let me show you where the major is.” He took off his helmet and raised his head from the hiding place, instantly shot on the forehead by major Konig, whose position was hence exposed by Danilov’s life.
I understand his decision. I understand the pain when one sees something valued so high and dearly vanishing into the thin air, when love and belief are destroyed or mocked by reality. A vulnerable heart that dreams of light with eyes closed simply cannot handle the despair that is so profound. It makes one fall to an abyss, doubting all, losing the motivation to live. Death is the perfect annotation for sincerity, the only escape and extrication. He had not had the courage of confronting before. He still didn’t. The only thing he could do was to give the broken world a useful gift when he departed. Danilov was also a hero. At least in that last moment, he became a hero of truthfulness.
But Danilov was only a tragic hero. No matter how bad the world needs more heroes, we do not need them in such a sad way. Although everyone has to find his/her own path, tragedy in the past may help avoid repeating itself in the future. We believe in truth, not just because of its soothing glow, but also because it is reality. I often think that love and belief have something in common- perhaps that is exactly why in many people including Danilov’s hearts, the two emotions are so tightly entwined. We love for it is beautiful. But if only for it is beautiful and refusing to acknowledge or accept the parts that are not so beautiful, then it is not true love. Rather, it is merely a pretty yet pale dream a heart weaves for itself. The more passion one has, the more lost, excruciating, desperate it will be when waken up by reality. We can never give up love and belief. We have to be brave to believe, to face the world and ourselves. To believe does not only require piousness, it also requires honest courage. The imperfect does not mean that it is not beautiful or not worth pursuing. It does not deserve to be discarded. To believe is not to be destroyed, not to create tragedies, but to fill all our lives with hopes and meanings. At least, I am talking about myself. I hope with true, healthy belief I can passionately see the world, see myself, and live.
03/13/05
By XP
Generally speaking, I do not like war movies. War is about man killing man, fast and undisguised. And often times it is about a large number of people slaughtering each other mercilessly for the sake of a few who hide themselves in the safest spots. Traditionally there have been two kinds of stereotypical war movies in my view. The western type emphasizes a super hero, who is a master of killing. Usually he wins the heart of a beautiful woman by being a hero with all the blood in his hand. The oriental type, on the other hand, focuses on the nature of the war. There are the righteous and the wrong, the good and the evil, sharply demarcated as black and white. The righteous side is glorified by eternal truth, hence everyone does heroic sacrificing deeds whereas none of the evil guys has a heart. Perhaps in a war, the hateful war in which all lose, many of such stories indeed happen. However, to me a war movie that single-mindedly or unilaterally portrays the picture out of the consideration of material interest or political propaganda could not bring the audience anything meaningful other than a momentary excitement or an awkward moral lesson.
The 2000 “Enemy at the Gates”, however, is a very well made war movie. Of course, I say this not because it carries all the basics of a typical western war movie as summarized above, but because of its fine depiction of the inside of those involved in a war, including those of the heroes, from the angle of humanism. The movie is based on a true historic character: former Soviet Union soldier Vassily Zaitzev, a great sniper with unbelievable skills, killing over 250 enemies during the second world war, including 221 in the battlefield of Stalingrad and 11 snipers. It tells the story of how a shy young shepherd from Urals became a national hero with his amazing shots, calm wisdom and honest courage in the cruel battle of street fighting. The plot outline is as follows: In 1942, Stalingrad, both Soviet Union and German suffered from tremendous losses and low morale. Soviet general Kruschev, following the order of the boss, was determined to resist and hold fast to the city that bore the name of Stalin, at whatever prices it might take. To inspire the red army soldiers, he accepted the proposition of a second-class political officer Danilov: to set a heroic icon as an example of bravery and love of the motherland. The talented crack gunner Vassily became that icon. The Germans quickly responded to it by sending a prestigious snipe specialist major Konig from Berlin to kill Vassily. After a long, hard and brutal duel, Vassily finally shot the major, for himself, for his country, for those who loved him and lost lives for him.
Doubtlessly, after more than half a century, when we look back upon the history, the world owes the brave red army for their huge sacrifice in their defeating the Nazi Germans. However, when it comes to each individual life fighting in that war, the movie presented things that shocked me to certain extent. Perhaps due to the background in which I grew up, I have always pictured every Soviet Union red army soldier only with iron will and determination. I have never imagined that in the midst of all the sacrifice in the bloody battle, there are ones who were frightened and wanted to retreat. Neither have I imagined a loving mother straight up and down, after hearing mistakenly that her son betrayed the country and had gone over to the Germans, would think that “perhaps he’s made the right choice”. Her brave little Sacha collected intelligence about the major at the risk and eventually paying the price of life, just because he so innocently wanted Vassily to “win”. Even Vassily himself was not a perfect hero in the traditional sense. As a sniper, he clearly saw the enemy through the sight “if he has a wedding ring” or “if he shaved that morning”; he saw them not as uniforms but as human faces, and “those faces don’t go away”. He was brave; but after realizing the impossible skills and tactic of major Konig, he found Danilov and told him that “you have to stop writing about me. You promised a victory I can’t deliver.” He fought with every bit of his energy; but he could also miss the ideal chance to shot out of mere fatigue and sleepiness. He devoted himself to the country; but his ideal was not to give all he had to the cause of communism, but to run a factory, becoming the man who “sees and knows everything” there. All those figures, those who sacrificed themselves for the greater good, were first human and then courageous and respectable heroes.
But some people did not realize this. They were blinded by the shining, perfect ideal and could not see the world or themselves clearly in the objective way. The character Danilov in the movie carried such typical trait. Perhaps many despise him as a “snake”, I personally feel the deepest and most painful sympathy for him. As a young promising political officer, Danilov was well educated and sincerely believed in communism. He believed in truth, believed in his own pursuit for the truth, but failed to observe himself and others in real forms. Although his belief was all equality, deep down he also considered himself “born for a different purpose” and more useful than those fighting in the battleground. Both Danilov and Vassily fell in love with a beautiful female soldier Tania. But no matter how Danilov tried and how reserved Vassily was at the beginning, the girl’s heart of course only went to the hero. Danilov was integrated, yet he could not see his own selfishness. He was sincere, yet he could not see his own envy. He used his power to transfer Tania for he wanted her to be safe. He let Sacha risk his life for intelligence, because he had to answer to Kruschev with a final victory. After finding out Tania’s love for Vassily, he was so overwhelmed by jealousy that he wrote in fury a report that in that circumstance could kill a person: Vassily’s “indescribable duration of his duel with the Nazi shot and public defeated comments could only be due to his lack of belief of the communist ideal”. Well, no wonder a lot of audiences do not like him.
I sympathize, because I see a piece of myself and perhaps of many others from Danilov. I cared for truth and the beautiful so much that I did not have the courage to confront the real self and the real world, making small or large mistakes without knowing. I know that Danilov was sincere, because when Tania was hit by shred in a commotion, he knelt down in front of the girl in blood who he loved so dearly. He shouted an aching cry, disclosing and tearing the deepest bottom of his own mind. He found Vassily who was still in duel with the major and painfully spoke the following words. “I’ve been such a fool, Vassily. Man will always be man. There is no new man. We tried so hard to create a society that was equal, where there would be nothing to envy on neighbor. But there will always be something to envy, a smile, a friendship… In this world, or even a soviet one, there will always be rich and poor, rich in gifts, poor in gifts, rich in love, poor in love… Tania is dead. She was going to come back for you. She was right, you are a good man…” In a despondent composure Danilov made a decision, “Let me help you Vassily. Something useful for a change. Let me show you where the major is.” He took off his helmet and raised his head from the hiding place, instantly shot on the forehead by major Konig, whose position was hence exposed by Danilov’s life.
I understand his decision. I understand the pain when one sees something valued so high and dearly vanishing into the thin air, when love and belief are destroyed or mocked by reality. A vulnerable heart that dreams of light with eyes closed simply cannot handle the despair that is so profound. It makes one fall to an abyss, doubting all, losing the motivation to live. Death is the perfect annotation for sincerity, the only escape and extrication. He had not had the courage of confronting before. He still didn’t. The only thing he could do was to give the broken world a useful gift when he departed. Danilov was also a hero. At least in that last moment, he became a hero of truthfulness.
But Danilov was only a tragic hero. No matter how bad the world needs more heroes, we do not need them in such a sad way. Although everyone has to find his/her own path, tragedy in the past may help avoid repeating itself in the future. We believe in truth, not just because of its soothing glow, but also because it is reality. I often think that love and belief have something in common- perhaps that is exactly why in many people including Danilov’s hearts, the two emotions are so tightly entwined. We love for it is beautiful. But if only for it is beautiful and refusing to acknowledge or accept the parts that are not so beautiful, then it is not true love. Rather, it is merely a pretty yet pale dream a heart weaves for itself. The more passion one has, the more lost, excruciating, desperate it will be when waken up by reality. We can never give up love and belief. We have to be brave to believe, to face the world and ourselves. To believe does not only require piousness, it also requires honest courage. The imperfect does not mean that it is not beautiful or not worth pursuing. It does not deserve to be discarded. To believe is not to be destroyed, not to create tragedies, but to fill all our lives with hopes and meanings. At least, I am talking about myself. I hope with true, healthy belief I can passionately see the world, see myself, and live.
03/13/05
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