A lot of ancient poetry sees in nature a reflection of human
A lot of ancient poetry sees in nature a reflection of human emotions, and in a post-industrialized era, once people have become more aware of the necessity of a more harmonious relation between man and nature, we need to build cities which can connect with human spiritual needs instead of being merely functional.
Hear the visionary words of Ma Yansong, architect of living spaces and dreamer of new cities: “A lot of ancient poetry sees in nature a reflection of human emotions, and in a post-industrialized era, once people have become more aware of the necessity of a more harmonious relation between man and nature, we need to build cities which can connect with human spiritual needs instead of being merely functional.” In this declaration, he summons both the wisdom of the ancients and the needs of the modern age, reminding us that to live without harmony with nature is to live without harmony with ourselves.
The meaning of this quote rests in the bridge between past and present. The poets of old looked upon rivers, mountains, and trees, and saw within them the mirror of their own hearts. The cherry blossom spoke of the fragility of life, the autumn leaf of sorrow, the rising sun of hope renewed. For the ancients, nature was not mute stone and water—it was living scripture, written in colors and seasons. Yet in our post-industrial world, men have drowned rivers with concrete, hidden stars behind smoke, and raised cities that speak only of function and profit. Ma Yansong calls us back to the ancient vision, urging that our cities must also meet the spiritual needs of mankind, not merely house its machines.
The ancients themselves built in this spirit. The Greeks raised their temples not to dominate the landscape, but to harmonize with it. The Parthenon stood as though grown from the very rock of the Acropolis, balanced in proportion with sky and hill. The Chinese poets wrote of gardens where mountains were shaped in miniature, where water flowed as a living companion to stone. These places were not only functional—they were sanctuaries where man could feel himself part of the greater whole. Here, architecture and poetry were one: both sought harmony between man and nature, body and soul.
History warns us of the cost of forgetting this truth. The factories of the Industrial Revolution brought wealth and production, but they also brought smoke-filled skies, disease, and despair. Workers lived in gray cities, built only for efficiency, stripped of beauty, and empty of spirit. These cities answered the body’s needs for shelter and labor, but they starved the soul. In such places, men became numbers, their inner lives neglected. Ma Yansong’s call rises from this history: we must not repeat the mistake of building cities that serve only function, while ignoring the human longing for beauty, rest, and connection to the eternal rhythms of nature.
There is wisdom, too, in the example of modern efforts. Consider the rebirth of green cities where gardens climb the walls of towers, where rivers are restored, where public spaces invite reflection and community. These are not luxuries; they are necessities. For as Ma Yansong reminds us, humanity is awakening again to the truth that was always known to the poets: we are not separate from nature. When our dwellings sever us from the earth, we wither within. When our cities harmonize with it, we flourish both in body and in spirit.
The lesson is clear: to build for man is not only to build for his work and sleep, but for his heart, his imagination, and his longing for beauty. A true city is not a prison of steel, but a garden of stone and sky, where men may labor yet not lose their souls, where children may play yet still hear the song of wind and bird. Let us remember, as the ancients knew, that every wall, every path, every roof should be a dialogue between human hand and natural world.
Practical is this path: seek to create and support spaces in your own life that connect you to both nature and spirit. Plant gardens in concrete courtyards, walk among trees even in the heart of the city, demand from leaders not only efficiency but beauty in design. Live so that your home, your street, your city do not only contain you but nourish you. For as Ma Yansong has taught, to build without spirit is to build tombs; but to unite function with poetry, stone with nature, body with soul—that is to build the dwelling of a free and flourishing humanity.
PDPham duc
Ma Yansong’s focus on the spiritual connection between humans and nature in city design is a compelling one. I wonder, in a world dominated by technology and industry, how can we preserve the emotional depth that ancient poetry found in nature? Can modern architecture and urban planning truly address these deeper needs, or are we doomed to create more sterile, disconnected spaces? How can we ensure that future cities connect with human emotions and spirituality?
PNHa phuong Nga
Yansong’s quote about the harmony between man and nature speaks to the imbalance we often feel in modern, industrialized cities. Have we lost the deeper connection to nature that ancient poetry once highlighted? Can we reintegrate natural elements into urban design in a way that fosters emotional well-being? How do we make cities not just functional, but spiritually nourishing environments that promote inner peace and connection to the world around us?
VTVan Tran
I’m drawn to Ma Yansong’s concept of cities that meet human spiritual needs. It seems that we’ve gotten so focused on the practical aspects of urban living that we’ve forgotten the importance of emotional connection to our surroundings. Can we design cities that nourish our souls, rather than just being places to live and work? What would it look like if architecture and urban design prioritized emotional harmony and human connection to nature?
3Q31•Quoc Qui
Ma Yansong’s idea about nature reflecting human emotions is a beautiful way of considering our relationship with the environment. It makes me think about how much ancient poetry understood the intrinsic link between nature and human spirit. But now, in a post-industrialized world, can we truly create spaces that connect with our emotional and spiritual needs? Can modern cities balance functionality with the natural, emotional harmony that Yansong speaks of?