〈The Use of Camera Techniques in Chinese Poetry〉

by Chen Qingyang

Preface

Wang Fuzhi of the Qing dynasty stated in Jiangzhai Shihua: “The finest lines of ancient poetry are mostly lines of scenery.” Here, “scenic language” broadly refers to concrete, tangible imagery that can be perceived by the five senses. Whether in classical poetry or modern new poetry, the vast majority of such “scenic language” can be appreciated and analyzed through what may be called the “principle of the camera lens.”

In this essay, the “camera” does not refer only to the “imagined images” that arise in the reader’s mind while appreciating poetry, but also to images that could literally be photographed with a camera and then linked together into a sequence of visual frames.

Section One: The Fusion of Emotion and Scene in Poetry

The fusion of emotion and scene has long been the “Taiji-like” core of classical poetic aesthetics. “Emotion as the intangible, scene as the tangible” resembles the complementary pairing of yin and yang. Wang Fuzhi wrote in Xitang Yongri Xulun (Inner Chapters): “Emotion and scene are named as two, yet in truth they cannot be separated. In poetry, their wondrous union is boundless.” Building on this idea, Wang Guowei stated in Renjian Cihua: “In former discussions of poetry, people distinguished between scenic language and emotional language, not realizing that all scenic language is in fact emotional language.” This directly points out that the purpose of depicting scenery is to express emotion.

When poets describe scenery through “scenic language,” its essence is lyrical: it projects the author’s emotions onto the scene. As Wang Guowei put it, “I observe things with myself; therefore all things are tinged with my own colors.”

When readers appreciate poetry, the “imagined images” that arise in their minds are influenced by the poem’s “emotional language,” prompting them to add a layer of subjective feeling and produce varied aesthetic responses. For example, in Du Fu’s socially critical line, “Behind vermilion gates, meat and wine rot; by the roadside lie the bones of the frozen dead,” readers perceive a cruelly realistic image that shocks the heart and evokes compassion. By contrast, in Wang Wei’s landscape line, “Returning light enters the deep forest, shining again upon the green moss,” readers sense the quiet remoteness of the mountains and forests, feeling relaxed and at ease.

Section Two: How Film Camera Techniques Handle “Emotional Language”

Once poetry is translated into camera images, the scenery indeed becomes visually clear, yet it does not necessarily convey with precision the “emotional language” embedded in the poetic lines, nor fully project the author’s subjective feelings. For example, in Ma Zhiyuan’s “Tianjingsha”:

Withered vines, old trees, dusk crows;
A small bridge, flowing water, cottages;
An ancient road, west wind, a lean horse.
The sun sets in the west—
A heartbroken man at the end of the world.

The scenic elements can readily be expressed through camera techniques, but the phrase “the heartbroken man” is an emotional expression that a camera finds difficult to render precisely. It is not something that can be fully conveyed by a merely sorrowful face covered in dust; such a stereotypical image cannot adequately express the depth of “heartbreak” as an emotional image.

Readers with some familiarity with film often hear the saying that audiences go to the cinema to see how directors “use the camera to express emotion while telling a story.” A film simultaneously narrates events and conveys the inner feelings of its main characters. Thus, the success or failure of a film often hinges on the portrayal of its protagonists’ “inner drama.” Even action films driven by spectacle and movement cannot dispense with necessary emphasis on the characters’ inner lives.

This discussion touches upon film aesthetics and psychological analysis and is therefore complex. In this essay, the author limits the analysis to “scenic language” (scenery and imagery), examining it through the principles of camera technique.

Section Three: How Film Camera Techniques Express Scenic Language in Poetry

(1) Camera Distance

Differences in camera distance are generally determined by how much material the frame contains. Usually, shot size is defined by how much of a person is visible, rather than by the actual physical distance between the camera and the subject. A telephoto lens, for example, can quickly shift from a long shot to a close-up without changing the physical distance.

Camera distance can roughly be divided into six types:

1. Close-up
2. Extreme Close-Up
3. Full Shot
4. Medium Shot
5. Long Shot
6. Extreme Long Shot

Because of these variations in camera distance, the “scenic language” in classical poetry can in fact be divided into two categories:
mid- to long-distance “scenes,” such as distant mountains, drifting clouds, or fishing boats on the sea; and close-distance or close-up “objects,” such as a potted flower on a table or a beauty’s bright eyes and white teeth.

Below, examples from classical poetry and modern new poetry are cited, classifying the types of camera shots implied in their lines of scenic language.

1. Extreme Close-Up

(1) “Her clever smile so charming, her beautiful eyes so expressive.”
— The Book of Songs, “Weifeng · Shuoren”

The camera begins with a close-up focusing on the beauty’s facial expression, then moves closer into an extreme close-up of her captivating eyes.

(2) “One word吟ed into calm, several whiskers snapped.”
— Lu Yanrang, “Painful吟ing”

The poet twists his beard while searching for the right word. After long deliberation he finally finds it, but several whiskers have been snapped. The camera first uses a close-up to focus on the poet’s face as he strokes his beard, then shifts to an extreme close-up of the few broken whiskers in his hand.

(3) “The candle, being sentient, still grieves at parting, shedding tears for others till dawn.”
— Du Mu, “Farewell” (second of two)

An extreme close-up focuses on the burning candle. Through time-lapse photography, the process of wax tears sliding down is captured in sequence. As readers read, a fast-forwarded series of extreme close-up images automatically unfolds in their minds.

(4) Modern poet Shang Qin, “Sketches of the Five Senses”

This sequence of poems is not only a novel set of object poems, but also an outstanding example of imaginative association achieved through close-ups and extreme close-ups. Two excerpts using extreme close-up techniques are cited below:

“Eyebrows”

Only wings,
without a body—
birds
flying endlessly
between crying and laughing.

Through associative resemblance, the poet links eyebrows with birds’ wings. “Flying endlessly / between crying and laughing” further depicts the movement of eyebrows, and the ending “flying” echoes the opening “wings.”

“Eyes”

A pair of fish in love,
their tails appearing only after forty;
between them stands a bridge of nose,
like me and my family,
separated by a strait.
In this lifetime
we may never meet again.
Occasionally
they mingle—
only as tears
in dreams.

Fish and eyes are again linked through resemblance. Crow’s-feet appear only in middle age, when facial muscles loosen. The nose bridge compared to a strait is not morphologically similar, yet readers accept it, for Shang Qin was an old soldier who followed the Nationalist government to Taiwan; a strait’s separation caused him the sorrowful thought that “in this lifetime we may never meet again.” Though the two eyes cannot see each other, their tears mingle in dreams—an imagined reunion.

(5) Modern poet Lin Zongyuan, “A Small Worm inside a Cabbage”

In the first two stanzas, the imagined images remain focused on a small caterpillar living inside a cabbage—cinematically, a magnified extreme close-up:

Quietly eating,
quietly sleeping,
quietly growing—
this is a modern kind of enjoyment.

Space gradually expands;
a ray of sunlight ignites hope.
Between light and darkness,
the head stretches in and out of a tiny hole,
wanting to see the world yet fearing the farmer.
The worm decides to live inside the hole,
quietly eating.

The frame first shows a small hole with a tiny worm hidden inside, surrounded by cabbage leaves. Time-lapse photography records the worm’s life cycle, played back in fast motion: as the worm grows, the space “gradually expands,” eventually reaching the outer leaves, allowing a ray of sunlight in. This ray stirs desire, and the worm peers out, hesitating. Fearing the farmer, it retreats and resumes eating and sleeping. Such images require magnified extreme close-ups to capture the worm’s tiny wriggling head.

Suddenly—
a kitchen knife.

The dramatic ending leaves the conclusion unstated, yet when the frame shows a close-up of a knife about to chop vegetables, the worm’s fate is clear. The poet deliberately leaves space for imagination.

2. Close-Up

(1) “Lightly she plucks, slowly she presses, wipes and flicks—first Rainbow Skirt, then Green Waist.”
— Bai Juyi, “The Song of the Pipa”

This line presents close-ups of the heroine’s finger movements as she plays the pipa. If the camera moves forward slightly and lengthens the focal distance, the frame becomes a full shot of her playing; if it moves closer, it focuses on her hands and the strings, forming a close or extreme close-up.

(2) “Spring’s beauty vexes me—sleep will not come; the moon shifts flower shadows onto the railing.”
— Wang Anshi, “Spring Night”

“The moon shifts flower shadows onto the railing” can be filmed as a close-up of flowers, using time-lapse photography to show changing shadows, thereby expressing the moon’s movement and the passage of time.

(3) “Spring fills the garden, cannot be shut in; a single red apricot branch reaches over the wall.”
— Ye Shaoweng, “An Unsuccessful Garden Visit”

The camera moves from a full view of the wall and pushes in, finally focusing in close-up on the single red apricot branch extending beyond the wall.

(4) Modern poet Chen Qianwu, “Walking in the Rain” (excerpt)

Straight down—one spider thread
Straight down—two spider threads
Straight down—three spider threads
Straight down—thousands of spider threads
Enclosing me
—within a prison of spider silk

The first three lines are close-ups. “Thousands of spider threads enclosing me” pulls the camera back slightly to show a full shot of the poet surrounded by rain threads like spider silk.
The image of spiders somersaulting resembles raindrops splashing and rebounding from the ground. The somersaulting spiders are close-ups, while “sorrowful patterns stamped on my clothes and face” moves into extreme close-ups of the poet’s body.

3. Full Shot

(1) “From afar I know my brothers climb the heights; all wear dogwood—one is missing.”
— Wang Wei, “Thinking of My Brothers on the Ninth Day of the Ninth Month”

The imagined image shows brothers gathering on a mountain, wearing dogwood sprigs. Cinematically, this is a full or medium shot.

(2) “Pitiable bones by the Wuding River, still the men of spring-chamber dreams.”
— Chen Tao, “Song of Longxi” (second of four)

Each line forms a full shot. Their juxtaposition creates a stark contrast between battlefield remains and wives dreaming at home, generating the tragic emotion of wartime separation.

(3) Modern poet Zheng Jiongming, “Sweet Potato” (excerpt)

Brutally
pulled from the warm soil
roots and all,
called ‘freedom.’

Then roasted,
fried,
dried under blazing sun,
cooked into bowl after bowl
of fragrant porridge.

My most nutritious parts are eaten,
my anemic leaves dumped to pigs.

The first stanza imagines a farmer swinging a hoe to dig sweet potatoes from the earth—a full shot. The subsequent cooking actions and the dumping of leaves to pigs are likewise handled as full shots.

(4) Modern poet Xiang Yang, “Outside Chiayi Street”

…
1947—
as if it were still before our eyes.
You encountered the Motherland
at the police station occupied by doves of peace.
The reward you received
was the Motherland’s searing kiss,
together with coarse iron wire
binding the body you were returning to the Motherland.
Along Zhongshan Road, so familiar since childhood,
you were brought to the front of Chiayi Station.
Facing the blue sky,
the Motherland rewarded your chest with a single bullet.

This sunless blue sky,
like you, glares in anger,
meeting the frightened, wide-open eyes
of the people of Chiayi.
At high noon before Chiayi Station,
when you fell, the sky turned dark.
(excerpt from the final two stanzas)

Using a retrospective-presentational narrative technique, the poet recreates the brutal scene of March 1947, when the renowned Taiwanese painter Chen Cheng-po was publicly executed by Nationalist government military and police forces outside Chiayi Railway Station, his body exposed in the street. The passages “bound together with coarse iron wire, you were taken back to the Motherland / along Zhongshan Road familiar since childhood to the front of Chiayi Station / facing the blue sky, the Motherland rewarded your chest with a single bullet” and “the frightened, gaping eyes of the people of Chiayi / at high noon before Chiayi Station / when you fell, the sky turned dark” present images that, if filmed, would use a full shot for the former, and a combination of medium shots (the frightened eyes of onlookers) and close-ups (“when you fell, the sky turned dark”) for the latter.

4. Medium Shot

(1) “Sparse shadows slant across clear, shallow water;
faint fragrance drifts in the yellow dusk of the moon.”
— Lin Bu, “Plum Blossoms in the Mountain Garden (I)”

A shallow stream runs through a garden of plum trees; slanting branches cast sparse reflections upon the water, while the faint fragrance of plum blossoms drifts in the moonlight just after nightfall. The imagined image is a slightly pulled-back medium shot, presenting the slanting shadows of plum branches and the hazy moonlight.

(2) “Mountains upon mountains, streams upon streams—no road seems ahead;
willows dark, flowers bright—suddenly, another village.”
— Lu You, “A Visit to West Mountain Village”

In the first line, the imagined image shows the poet reaching what seems to be the end of a mountain path, encountering a grove of willows and suspecting there is no way forward. Unexpectedly, bright blossoms appear faintly within the grove—revealing a hidden village. The first line uses a medium shot; after discovering the village, the second line presents a distant view of the village landscape.

(3) Modern poet Luo Fu, “An Afternoon of Water Hyacinths”

“An Afternoon of Water Hyacinths”

Afternoon. In the pond
crowded clusters of pregnant water hyacinths.
This summer is lonely—
if they must give birth,
let them give birth to a whole pond of frogs.

Alas, the problem is—
we are merely bloated with emptiness.

The crowded water hyacinths in the pond form an imagined medium shot. The ensuing surreal fantasy—“pregnant water hyacinths giving birth to a whole pond of frogs”—though fantastical, still employs a slightly pulled-back medium shot.

(4) Modern poet Zheng Chouyu, “The Mistress”

In a small blue-stone town lives my mistress,
and I leave her nothing—
only a bed of coreopsis, and a tall window,
perhaps letting in a trace of the vast sky’s solitude.
Perhaps… and the coreopsis is good at waiting.
I think solitude and waiting
are good for a woman.
(excerpt)

The poet places his mistress in a small blue-stone town. Her dwelling is deliberately arranged: a tall window and a bed of coreopsis in the courtyard. When translated into camera imagery, the Western-style house and the bed of coreopsis could each be shown in separate full shots, but to include both within the same frame, the camera must pull back slightly to a medium shot.

5. Long Shot

(1) “In the vast desert, a solitary plume of smoke stands straight;
by the long river, the setting sun hangs round.”
— Wang Wei, “On a Mission to the Frontier”

The desert and the long river serve as a grand background to highlight the solitary smoke and the setting sun. Such a background would typically be filmed with a wide-angle long shot to broaden and expand the distant view, expressing the openness of the desert and the length of the Yellow River. The solitary smoke and the sun, as focal objects, would be captured with a long lens, creating a contrast between the small and the vast.

(2) “Falling clouds and a lone wild duck fly together;
autumn waters and the long sky share one color.”
— Wang Bo, “Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng”

In “falling clouds and a lone wild duck fly together,” both clouds and duck appear as distant views under a long lens. In “autumn waters and the long sky share one color,” the sense of distance is even broader—an expansive vista formed by combining a long lens with a wide-angle lens.

(3) Modern poet Xiang Yang, “Dark Clouds”

…
Dark clouds, from now on like vines,
vine-like, entwining Taiwan.
The sky becomes the canvas of dark clouds’ tyranny—
drawing black frames, marking forbidden zones,
cutting open the pale expanse of daylight.
Those with mouths—must not speak;
those with ears—must not hear;
those with eyes—must not see;
those with hearts—must not think;
even the word “no”
is forbidden to be spoken.
(excerpt)

In 1947, Taiwan experienced the February 28 Incident. Tens of thousands of intellectual youths and social elites were ruthlessly hunted down and slaughtered by Nationalist government military and police forces led by Chen Yi. The island was enveloped in extreme high-pressure terror, and politics became a dreadful dark cloud. “The sky becomes the canvas of dark clouds’ tyranny / drawing black frames, marking forbidden zones”—from then on, the people lost their basic freedoms and human rights to speak, hear, see, and think. If this imagined dark cloud were filmed, the sky shrouded in black storm clouds would form a vast background, necessarily presented as a distant long shot. This would be paired with full or medium shots of people being arrested by military police, prisoners being tortured in jails, and political dissidents being executed at firing grounds as the main visual scenes.

(4) Ya Xian, “Songlike Andante”

…
And once regarded as a river, one must continue to flow on.
The world is always thus, always thus:—
Guanyin on a distant mountain,
poppies in the poppy fields.
(excerpt from the final stanza)

A river flowing into the distance and Guanyin Mountain afar are both imagined as long-distance long shots. “Poppies in the poppy fields” may be a medium shot of a single plot of poppies, or an expansive long shot of a vast sea of poppy flowers.

6. Extreme Long Shot

(1) “Viewed from the side, a ridge; from the front, a peak—
from far or near, high or low, each appears different.”
— Su Shi, “Inscription on the Wall of Xilin Temple”

The imagined images of these lines fully accord with the principle of linear perspective in Western painting. Viewed horizontally, the mountains appear as undulating ridges; viewed vertically, they become a succession of peaks of varying heights. Filmed cinematically—whether as a wide-angle horizontal long shot or a vertical long shot—the frame necessarily captures an extreme long shot.

(2) “Boundless falling leaves rustle down;
endless the Yangtze rolls on.”
— Du Fu, “Ascending the Heights”

An endless forest shedding leaves, and the vast Yangtze River surging onward—both scenes were witnessed firsthand by the poet from a height. Translated into camera imagery, both would be filmed with a wide-angle lens combined with a long lens, forming extreme long shots that convey the forest’s vastness and the river’s unceasing length.

(3) Modern poet Zheng Chouyu, “Letter from Beyond the Mountains”

No need to worry for me—
I am in the mountains…

Clouds from the sea
say the sea’s silence is too deep;
winds from the sea
say the sea’s laughter is too vast.

I am a person from the sea;
mountains are frozen waves
(no longer believing the sea’s messages).
My longing for home
no longer surges.

In the first stanza, the imagined image of the poet in the mountains may be a full or medium shot. In the second stanza—clouds from the sea, winds from the sea—and in the third stanza, “mountains are frozen waves,” the imagined images are all extreme long shots using long-distance, wide-angle lenses.

(4) Modern poet Li Minyong, “Island Nation”

Far from our homeland,
our ancestors crossed the sea to Formosa,
enduring countless hardships.

The strait severed the umbilical cord;
amid the rocking of waves,
we learned to cultivate with sweat,
to plant hope with love.
(excerpt from the first two stanzas)

In the line “our ancestors crossed the sea to Formosa,” Han settlers from Tangshan crossed the Taiwan Strait in wooden sailing boats. “Amid the rocking of waves,” such imagery is best filmed with a long lens combined with a wide-angle lens, presenting several wooden sailing boats carrying migrants, venturing forward across the sea in wind and waves.

(2) Zoom Shot

A zoom shot adjusts itself to changes in the position of the subject or object being focused on. At times, the lens must be pulled closer (zoom in) to enlarge the subject and exclude surrounding elements; at other times, the lens must be pushed farther away (zoom out) to reduce the size of the subject and include relevant surrounding scenery within the frame.

1. Zoom In

When the camera gradually zooms in from a distant view, the subject shifts from a long shot to a close view, producing a dual effect of magnification and increased clarity.

If the lens retracts progressively from an extreme long shot to a long shot, medium shot, full shot, close-up, and extreme close-up, it can sequentially reveal various elements of the scene from far to near, creating a focusing effect and a close-up perspective.

(1) Liu Zongyuan, “River Snow”

A thousand mountains—no bird in flight;
Ten thousand paths—no trace of man.
A lone boat, a straw-cloaked old man,
Fishing alone in the cold river snow.

“The thousand mountains” and “ten thousand paths” constitute an extreme long shot, captured with a wide-angle lens. “No bird in flight” and “no trace of man” employ a telephoto lens to depict distant scenes. The “lone boat and straw-cloaked old man” form a medium shot transitioning (zooming in) into a full shot; the straw-cloaked old man becomes a close-up, while the fishing rod in his hand is treated as a partial extreme close-up. As the fishing line descends into the snowy river, the lens gradually zooms out again, restoring depth of field and pushing back toward a medium and long shot of the snow-covered river surface.

These sequential frames progress from extreme distance to gradual proximity, culminating in the full shot of the lone fisherman, reaching an extreme close-up of the fishing rod, and then expanding once more into spatial depth.

(2) Modern poet Lo Chih-cheng, “Time”

When I return to Earth,
humanity has long since departed.
Forests have reclaimed the cities;
gulls still linger at the river mouth.
Countless discarded watch movements
lie scattered across the beach like shells—
some filled with seawater,
some still ticking.

The imagined visuals of this poem begin with a long shot—“When I return to Earth, humanity has long since departed / forests have reclaimed the cities”—then condense into medium shots of “gulls lingering at the river mouth” and “discarded watch movements scattered across the beach.” The lens zooms in further to focus on several individual watch movements on the sand, rendered in close-up: “some filled with seawater, some still ticking.”

2. Zoom Out

When the lens zooms out from a close distance, the subject appears increasingly distant, producing a dual effect of reduction and blurring.

That is, when the camera gradually zooms out from close-up to full shot, medium shot, long shot, and extreme long shot, it reveals various elements of the scene from near to far, generating depth of field and a broad visual perspective.

(1) Ma Zhiyuan, “Tian Jing Sha”

Withered vines, ancient trees, dusk crows;
A small bridge, flowing water, distant homes.
An old road, west wind, a lean horse.
The sun sets in the west—
A heartbroken traveler at the edge of the world.

This celebrated lyric employs what is known in imagery design as a “catalogue structure.” Scenic elements are revealed sequentially from near to far. “Withered vines,” “ancient trees,” and “dusk crows” are each treated as close-up shots; combined within the frame, they form a full shot. “A small bridge, flowing water, distant homes” similarly consist of three close-up images merged into a panoramic household scene. “Old road,” “west wind,” “lean horse,” and “the sun setting in the west” are rendered through medium-to-long shots, progressively opening into distant views. “A heartbroken traveler at the edge of the world” presents a tiny figure in the distance—an extreme long shot conveying vast desolation.

(2) Modern poet Lo Fu, “Golden Dragon Zen Temple”

The evening bell
is the path tourists take downhill.
Ferns
along the white stone steps
chew their way downward.

If snow were to fall here—

only a startled gray cicada would be seen,
lighting up, one by one,
the lamps of the mountain.

In the first stanza, the downhill path is shown through a gradual zoom-out from close-up to medium shot, eventually forming a distant mountain scene, with fern-like plants lining the stone steps. The final stanza adopts the same technique, zooming out from a close-up of a single cicada to the distant scene of lamps gradually lighting up across the mountain.

3. Alternating Use of Near and Far Shots

Some poems feature imagined scenes in which distant views and close objects alternate. Cinematically, this involves repeatedly zooming out and zooming in, producing dynamic visual transitions between distance and proximity. Prior to filming, art directors typically create a storyboard. The director then guides the cinematographer to flexibly employ wide lenses, telephoto lenses, or zoom lenses according to the storyboard, thereby assembling a vivid sequence of alternating near and far shots.

(1) Bai Pu (Yuan dynasty), “Tian Jing Sha”

A lonely village, setting sun, lingering clouds;
light smoke, old trees, cold crows—
a single wild goose descending.
Green hills, clear waters;
white grass, red leaves, yellow flowers.

This lyric consists entirely of scenic language. Its imagery alternates between near and far shots, producing a shifting visual perspective. “A lonely village, setting sun, lingering clouds” moves from a medium shot of the village to a distant shot of the clouds. “Light smoke, old trees, cold crows” zooms back from a full shot to a close-up of the crows. “A single wild goose descending” opens the view again with a telephoto long shot. “Green hills, clear waters” expands into an extreme long shot, while “white grass, red leaves, yellow flowers” presents a richly colored panoramic landscape of wilderness.

(2) Modern poet Lo Fu, “The Cycle of Ice”

In life he was cold as an ice sculpture.
After cremation, passing through the chimney,
he rose into a solitary cloud.
What remained was a jar of ashes,
a pinch of phosphorus,
scattered into the wind,
dancing into a sky full of glittering stars.
Falling, they become rain;
cooling again, they return to ice.

Though brief, this poem features rapidly shifting imagery—near and far, large and small—creating a rich visual rhythm. If rendered cinematically, the sequence would unfold as follows:
full shot (“cold as an ice sculpture in life”) → medium shot (“after cremation, passing through the chimney / rising into a solitary cloud”) → close-up (“a jar of ashes / a pinch of phosphorus”) → medium shot (“scattered into the wind”) → extreme long shot (“dancing into a sky full of glittering stars”) → medium shot (“falling as rain”) → extreme close-up (“returning to ice”).

As the imagery shifts with the zooming lens, the poet’s ingenuity offers readers a richly engaging visual experience.

Conclusion

Cinematic principles of camera movement can be effectively applied to poetry, helping readers more accurately construct mental imagery and organically connect preceding and succeeding images (contextual imagery) into a continuous visual sequence. These principles provide concrete clues for interpreting the emotional and symbolic depth embedded within the scenery.

For writers, camera logic offers an efficient way to identify a narrative or descriptive axis. Along this axis, meaningful images can be systematically organized into coherent sequences, while irrelevant or weak images—mere ornamental branches—are filtered out. This prevents disordered montage, abrupt intrusions of unrelated imagery, tonal disjunctions, and loss of thematic focus that may otherwise lead to semantic confusion.

Many contemporary poets who claim to adopt postmodern techniques often produce texts plagued by arbitrary image-jumping and weak semantic cohesion. Such works resemble fragmented dream-talk rather than meaningful expression. Labeling this disorder as “polysemy” or “open interpretation” is little more than a euphemism for obscurity. When imagination runs unchecked and imagery lacks organic structure, readers are left “seeing without understanding,” forced to guess rather than comprehend—trapped in an image labyrinth that irresponsibly exhausts the reader’s cognitive faculties.

Postscript:
Film terminology referenced from the website Understanding Cinema:
http://edumovie.culture.tw/activities_info.php?id=162