Quiet test

2022-05-15 0 By

According to Gao Zhixian, 1978 was the second year after the restoration of the national college entrance examination after the Cultural Revolution. I had a strange feeling during an invigilation of a postgraduate examination room, so I wrote down some short sentences, let’s call them poems.Now the original text is copied in order to see my state of mind at that time!In the quiet test room, there was a stirring sound.Roll, pen, heartbeat, breathing…The nation is marching toward the four modernizations.I sat on the invigilator’s seat and listened to the energetic sound that shook the bowels of thousands of people but did not disturb the examinee sitting next to me.It raised waves in my mind, and it brought a catastrophe — squeaks, squeaks…Like a hundred birds on a spring morning.From the sound of spring, I seem to see: flowers in full bloom, all things rebirth.In the peach blossom green, thousands of gardeners are working.”Whisk, whisk…Like spring breeze ringing the garden.In this spring breeze blowing, I seem to see: fangcao Pavilions, pine and cypress Sen sen.In the motherland full of spring on the earth, a generation of pillars lush green.”Chirp, chirp…Like autumn cicadas singing “Harvest Line”.In this harvest, I seem to see: cotton peach silver, gold rice.In the sea of gold and silver, thousands of “old farmers” smile.”Swish, swish…”Like a thousand songs rolling in the sky.From this dance sea song tao, I seem to see: the sea of love rolling, love tide like clouds.Thousands of “singers” have voiced their voices over the reform of college entrance exams.”Swish, swish…”Like a thousand bows and arrows flying dysprosium.In this angry voice, I seem to see: angry eyes breathing fire, iron fist like forest.In the fierce battle, tens of thousands of victims cried out against the “four evils”.”Swish, swish…”It was as if a thousand motors were roaring.From the voice of this endeavour, I seem to see: silver eagle wings, steel dragon flying.After the clubs and chains were broken, thousands of machines turned flywheels.”Splash, splash…”Like the surging Yangtze River.In this rushing torrent sound, I seem to see: the front wave rolling, after the wave pentium.On the crest of the wave, thousands of surfers to the upstream!”Dong dong, dong dong…”Like trumpets and drums calling out men.From the trumpets of the march, I see a hero in his horse, a warrior in his stirrup.At the foot of the perilous peak, tens of thousands of brave men climb fiercely.”Brush, brush…”As if thousands of armies and horses were advancing.From the sound of ten thousand horses galloping, I seem to see: red flag hunting, bullets rain gun forest.On the “snow mountain” “grassland”, a new generation in the Long March…Listen, listen, listen to this: the sound of the rustling pen on the paper, the sound of the rolling pages, the sound of the squeaking page friction, the heartbeat of the stroke of winter, the sound of breathing…Together into a majestic majestic symphony, dedicated to the motherland – my mother!Editor: Li Ru