Literature, Art and Practical Struggle (2 of 3)

We could not return to the time of the "Seven Saints of Bamboo Grove," nor could we retire into the mysterious mountains of Alps. We are fated to live in a rigorous time and a society of misery. Since I had become a man with progressive thoughts and had been willing to learn with good people, I started to write for the Vanguard newspaper. I did not write about romance or champagne but the suffering and oppression of human beings. I criticized caustically the exploiters and oppressors, sympathized with the exploited and oppressed. I extolled revolutionary upheavals and the torches that led people towards the light. I remember the time when my first article was published; I felt as happy as the peaks of a mountain which had just received the first flake of the crystal-white snow.

Then, I grew braver and firmer. I ar ­ rived at the conclusion that the place where we lived had no wealth for us nor were there equal rights. Even the sunshine could not be truly ours. I felt insulted, desired to eliminate the mis ­ ery and injustice of life. Often, I would stare into the rosy, sparkling morning clouds, yearning for a free and equal society to come true. I also took part in many of the practical struggles to resist the devastating exploitation and oppression. Thus, I let in the enthusiasm of revolution and filled up my poor and vapid life.

There have been enticing dreams in my memory; each of them pointed me in a new direction. In those days, I wrote for the Unity. I saw this newspaper trudge along arduously from the time when it was mimeographed to a time when it was typeset, and felt proud. For eight or nine years, I have been writing for it, never intermitted, neither on the fine summer days nor on the stormy winter nights. What else can I take pride in? My life has never been more meaningful.

In my memory, there have also been traces of wounds over the years. But I am determined not to fall in line with those of the declining class. I cherish the ideal of Marxism and Leninism, as well as my lofty character and values. I have long discarded the decadent ro ­ manticism and any imaginary hopes to console myself. Instead, I devoted myself to calling for help for the poor and the needy while living under the same conditions as they do, sharing their hardships and happiness. In return, I received love and confidence from those people and this has encouraged me in my work. Now, when I look toward the horizon, I seem to see the east sea turning into glittering red under the morning sun.

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