Youth has no inn.
The wind and the moon flow like a stream.
Time walks at an unchanging pace, walking slowly and slowly, passing through spring, autumn, winter and summer, and passing through cloudy and sunny months. Looking back suddenly, the past days are like a swaying kaleidoscope, inadvertently shaking out inimitable patterns, and the gatherings, separations, joys and sorrows are all out of print. Then I knew that youth is a one-way bus, which cannot return and has no stop.
The morning bells and evening drums urge me to raise the sail for a long voyage, but my heart is like a leaf nostalgic for an old branch, lingering in the wind of yesterday, reluctant to start and let go of me. I also know that I shouldn’t delay my trip, but I can’t get rid of the fetters of emotions. I can’t seal everything I’ve ever had in the castle of memory. I lock it tightly on the day of rebirth. I walk through the sunset and the moon rise every day, as if I’m standing in a clear river. The clear river water is the life I have and only have once, but I spend too much time standing in the water, letting the upstream water flow through me and then becoming the downstream water, letting the future flow through me and the present become the past, I But because I was too obsessed with yesterday, I lost today and tomorrow, so I had nothing.
I often imagine what it would be like when Chun Hua and Qiu Shi have become history, and I sit with my head covered with snowflakes in the memory of yesterday, chewing on the stories hidden in every ravine on my face. state of mind! I am supposed to know a lot but believe very little, but I am still confused by the joke of "The Wolf Crying" again and again; I am supposed to be more in love with spring after winter, but I still miss the fairy tale of "Snow Child". The distance traveled seems to be a circle, and after a long journey, we return to the starting point. So many times we are doing the same thing, which is looking for goals.
I once thought hard in the darkness, and finally deciphered that the simplest grass withered and blooming is a kind of mystery, which is an intuitive teaching tool of life: flowers can only be red once, and grass can only be green for one year. The deceased is like this, and the smoke of the past has drifted away with the monsoon wind, so why bother to pursue and recall it. The train of youth carries countless passengers. No one can predict what they will encounter along the way, and no one can return to the starting point where they got on the train. Since I have no choice, let me crush the frustrations and satisfactions I have had on the rails of time, then open the doors and windows, bathe in the fresh air and sunshine, and welcome a new journey. Because I already know that youth is a one-way bus that cannot return and has no stop.
The dead branches without any decoration are dyed white, the moss growing on them and the newly built roof tiles are also dyed white. Only the ground still shows its original color, and the charm of beauty is gradually disappearing. Untie.
Opening the door curtain, snow quickly poured over the body from under the eaves. The snow at this moment has a slightly aggressive momentum. It seems that it has changed from a baby waiting to be fed to a masculine one. Gentlemen, they have broken away from the naive beauty of childishness and replaced it with the mature and steady beauty.
The snow in the corner is already very thick, those gray and white plastic bags have been silently contained, and a dirty and messy corner has been decorated to be extremely clean.
I marvel at their rapid growth because their footprints are so distinct. I marveled at their broad-mindedness, because their actions were so touching.
Towards evening, snow finally covered the ground. With the white background, the falling snow in the sky is no longer lonely and helpless. Heaven and earth blend together, as if everything has become an embellishment in the white curtain. In the process of embellishment and being embellishment, the beauty of snow is also vividly interpreted.
The snow at this moment seems to be an old man who has seen all kinds of life. They are perched on the treetops on the eaves, guarding the empty streets, speechless. Occasionally, I will show my childlike innocence and play with the wind.
I imagined that there were many children wearing leather gloves and leather hats on the snow, with a trace of heat coming out of the tips of their cold-red noses and cracked mouths. They were building snowmen and playing in the snow. Fighting, laughter spread far away. However, such a scene can only be imagined. The snow on the road has been pressed by the passing vehicles and water is seeping out. Where is there room for them to play?
Through the door curtain, I could see that the night was brightly reflected by the snow, but I couldn't see whether there was still a heart that was almost melting in the frozen night.
When I reached this point, I suddenly thought of a sentence: "The clear thoughts in the blue world weave future dreams and colorful lives." So, can we also weave in this white world? What about dreams of the future and a colorful life? Reporter’s Supplement 2009-07-19 12:50 I often tell you that smart women are worthy of admiration, but what about the unsmart ones? Or you will get sympathy from people. You always ask me, are you afraid of being alone? No! I just occasionally want to hear your voice, see your face, laugh happily or cry wantonly in front of you. I am not afraid of loneliness. I have known how to enjoy loneliness very early. Although I am only one person, there are piano, dance, poetry and most importantly, you in my world. I don’t think I need more people in my small space. lively. Many people who have been in love may never see each other again once they break up. In fact, there are many examples of love turning into hate instead. Many people or things, even grudges or grudges, can be easily erased by time, just like a hard-working woman gently sweeping away some smoke and dust with a rag, with an understatement. With a gentle raise of the hand, those who love and those who don't love are constantly saying goodbye. People often say that two people who have lost their fate are not easy to meet even if they are in the same city. Just like in the past three years, we completely lost our fate, so I lost news about you. The parting with you has been hidden in my heart for many years. I thought that the melody of those longings could no longer make a sound, like a piano without strings, or like a person who has not spoken for a long time. He became like a mute who could speak originally. All people have loved, been hurt, and then may experience union or separation and forgetfulness. We can have any expectations for the future, but we must clearly realize that the answers life gives us are always unexpected. Did you know? When a woman is looking out the window, she may not be looking at anything or thinking about anyone. She is just missing some beautiful memories, in which there are some beautiful people and some trivial but equally beautiful fragments. You have to know that many times your feelings for a person cannot be expressed in words or words. I am probably a bird, flapping my tired wings, flying into the distance, and there are still some distances. On the way to pursue you, I look at the sky and the water in confusion. And you, damn you, will only wave to me from further away. How I hope that one day I can gather my wings. As long as I can stay in your arms, I am willing to give up my innate dream of flying. If you are willing, or if you are willing, then you can become a bird and travel far away with me in the wind. Perhaps, all the assumptions are in vain! Love to a bird is just a puzzle set by fate. When the earth turns around, day will inevitably turn into night. When the earth turns around again, night will return to day. When I turn around for someone, he turns his back to me and sighs. When I turn around again for love, thinking that everything can start again, it is also destined to end in the sighs of others. The process in between is called helplessness. I am used to missing you, but not because of loneliness, missing you just out of nature. If you had given me another promise, I don't think I would have gone anywhere, I would have just stood there and waited for you. But I think there are some things that should be forgotten. Forgetting is sometimes an expression of loving someone to the extreme. Some things can be remembered, some things can be done willingly, and some things cannot be done, like you, and like me. However, as long as I know and believe that there is still someone there who is always watching and watching my happiness, just like I am watching and watching his happiness. I don't know when and where that person will appear, but I am always willing to wait for him happily and alone. Maybe, this way you can live a happy life. Original source: /Article/zhelisanwen/200905/15122.html Report... Answer acceptance rate: 22.9% 2009-07-18 19:28 Tonghua - Xi Murong April 24
On the long road, I am walking towards a series of rolling hills. I don’t know where to stop, and I can tell him all the unreasonable sorrows I have had in the past ten or twenty years. The forest is clean and fresh, the mountains are tight-lipped, and no one is willing to tell me about the coming bloom and wither.
April 25th
On the long road, I am walking towards a series of rolling hills. At the very beginning, it seemed like an extremely ordinary encounter. If it weren't for the long-cherished hope in our hearts, we might have missed the faintly flowing message that had been conveyed to each other in the wind and clouds.
The April wind blows, and the mountains are calm and facing me with a smile. In his arms, flying in the wind were deep and shallow grass leaves and branches of the same color.
I gradually approached the mountains, hoping to know his mood at the moment. There are vague whispers passing through the woods. At the end of April, life is brewing a mellow change, a commotion that cannot be completely predicted.
May 8th
After the low call passed, the whole world was covered in the shade of snow-white flowers.
The sun is shining brightly in the sky, the mountains are stretching, and the clusters of white flowers are like a flowing river. It was as if all the lives in the world were invited to come. At this moment, under the transparent and mellow sunshine, they cheered and whirled at the same time, and transformed into countless free and floating light points.
Such an afternoon full of white flowers always feels like déjà vu, and it always feels like a gathering that can be put into any kind of time and space. You can put it in the Book of Songs, you can put it in the Songs of Chu, you can put it in classicism, and at the same time you can put it in the writing of post-impressionism - in any beautiful record of human beings, there should be such an afternoon, such an early summer.
There is always such an early summer, when the sky is beautiful and the white flowers are blooming high in the trees. There is always a woman in red walking slowly through the green fields, the breeze blowing her dress and hair. New tea is planted in the fields, Polygonum flowers are blooming, and thin wood sorrel grows.
The snow-white flower shades and winding paths appear repeatedly in poems and paintings. All the lights and shadows and all the joys and sorrows were clearly dreamed on the pillows of my predecessors. I don’t know if the flowers blooming for me today are. In which autumn did the seeds fall? Could it be that the love we persist in throughout our lives was already a story that was written in a book thousands of years ago?
The mountains in May finally moved and embraced me with infinite tenderness. The moment I longed for finally arrived, but I found that in his arms, in the deep forest, tung flowers were blooming. Like brocade, one side keeps falling down.
May 11
Is it true that life can only be separated and withered after a moment of joyful gathering?
At the moment when I turned around, the tung flowers were falling continuously. The tight knot in my heart slowly loosened, and the mountains were beside me, leaning against the waves and the moonlight. I bowed my head and thanked him softly for every beautiful day and quiet night he had given me. From now on, I only remember that under the shade of snow-white flowers, there is a path that does not allow you to go to the end, and there is all the happiness in this world that is belated, but must come to an end in a hurry.
May 15th
The tung flowers have all fallen, but the soft sound of falling flowers still remains in the forest. Walking back to the long road, I don’t know who to confirm this kind of sadness that alternates between happiness and sadness.
In the infinite silence of indifference, every tree retreated to its original corner. I looked back at Yiyi and stared at him. The peak has passed. If I continue walking, it will be the vast and flat road with no worries or worries, right? The mountains were silent and refused to answer me. In the gradually deepening twilight, it seemed that I had forgotten what childish and pitiful passion there was in the mountains when the flowers were blooming.
I had no choice but to come back and wait for time to pass, hoping to gradually forget all of this like him. But why, in the long dark night, can we still hear the sound of tung flowers falling in the deserted forest? Why? The flowers have fallen, but the sound of falling flowers still remains in my heart.
After all the flowers have fallen, the sound of falling flowers still remains in my heart, one by one, falling gently in the deserted mountains.
Moshang▍＂Huakai's answer acceptance rate: 24.0% 2009-07-18 19:44 Sometimes one report is enough - Ye Yanbin's "The Warmth of Lights" Zigui Ciao Yeyue's answer is accepted Rate: 18.8% 2009-07-18 19:46 Reporting on Ba Jin, supplementary information from those who responded 2009-07-18 20:10 Acceptance rate of answers from those who were destined to report on Gorky Haiyan: 8.3% 2009-07-18 19:56 There was no breeze, and the ink tree crowns were not swaying. The chirping of insects broke the silence, and the sleeping birds were chirping, which made the night sky more peaceful and dark. It is deep, the stars are sparse and the clouds are pale, and the bright moon is burning alone.
I look up and am obsessed with the image of the wheel not far above my head that has not faded from ancient times to modern times.
How many wonderful stories, how many magnificent poems, how many beautiful philosophies, how many magnificent songs floated from the smiling moon.
On a moonlit night on the Spring River, the moon is in front of the flowers, and the crows are crowing under the moon. Even desolation, broken dreams, and loss of love are all interpretations of the waxing and waning moon. Even tenderness, expectation, and emotion are all related to the arrangement of the rising and falling of the moon.
The flowers are not as good as a hundred days, and the moon is not as full as three nights. From the moment it rises, it falls. The sky is shining brightly, and the night is bright for thousands of miles. It is a glorious momentum. The afterimage is like a hook, the wind is wild and the night is dark, it is a confused lament.
The beautiful woman looks at the moon and misses her, leaning on the plum blossoms with hope. Tourists point to the moon and look at the countryside, drinking wine and weeping. A man with lofty ideals plays the moon to express his feelings, which is a metaphor for the past and present. Those who mourn complain about the sad mood of the moon, and use things to worry about the gods. The cycle is the same year after year, but different from year to year.
Occasionally one or two barks. The faint, flickering lights in the distance embellish the moonlight, forming a night that won't be lonely.
The lights are on in several places, and the lights are out in several places.
Some are happy, some are sad, and some have new dreams.
People still stay awake on moonlit nights, are they working for dreams, or are they lingering on love?
When people look at the moon, they also feel the moon, they also support the moon, they are also fascinated by the moon, they also think about the moon, and they also feel the moon. The flowers are blooming and the moon is full, which is the intoxicating beauty. The moon is missing and the dream is broken, which is the regret of heartache. Colorful clouds chasing the moon are Xinfei's longing. Watching the moon and enjoying the scenery is a joyful game.
The moon keeps its trajectory and keeps its course. Under the moon, sheng and flute are played, and we talk, laugh, and express our feelings. Under the moon, there is drizzle and wind. Love and long-lasting love come true. Under the moon, we are displaced, and weep in pain and sorrow. Let the wind blow cold under the moon and the water surges... it will not change its reincarnation.
The ancients did not see the moon today, so why did this moon shine on the ancients? This month's gains and losses have given away so much poetry and painting, and seen so many confluences of causes and conditions, leaving only a clear glow that reflects the past and present unchanged, and only a smile that fills the world with harmony. Report Respondent's Supplement 2009-07-19 09:52 That touch of classical sadness The moon has set in the west and the candlelight has burned out. The sound of the fifth watch came, but I didn’t feel it was cold. In the dream, I saw a beautiful woman dancing alone. Not touched by dust and not touched by smoke, it suddenly seems as if it is cold, but the jade rabbit does not appear. I could vaguely see pear blossoms with rain, that touch of classical sadness. Whose face has lost weight?
With three thousand weak water, I only take one ladle to drink. I dare not blaspheme or be greedy. It’s just that I can’t find that face that I dare not forget. I fly kites and hope for the wild geese, just so that I can see the beautiful woman appear. You don’t have to be as beautiful as Xiao Qiao, you don’t have to be as charming as a falling goose. I only wish to be as gentle as lotus and as clear as ice. A graceful smile is like flowers blooming, like the moon emerging from the dust. My eyes were lost, and I was drunk with the world.
The moon does not know how to see through people's thoughts, but it always uses the waxing and waning of clouds and sunshine to set off all the misery in the world. As a result, the longing was stretched, and the autumn water could not see through. People are more hurt, and their tears are colder. Looking at the moon every night, sometimes it is full, sometimes it is weak. I know that the moon is not wrong, but the people under the moon are wrong. Night after night I dream about beautiful women, month after month I miss beauty, and I miss her beauty year after year. I don’t know when I will see my pretty face, and I don’t know when my name will be in my heart.
I often dream of a beautiful woman who has traveled through the millennium, and who doesn’t drink Meng Po soup is still a bridge over Naihe. Going through thousands of hardships, overcoming all difficulties, breaking through reincarnation at the risk of losing his soul, just for the sake of meeting before the Lotus Pavilion in the previous life. Just to be able to recognize the other person's face in the sea of ??people again, maybe the relationship has been broken, maybe we can no longer hold hands and grow old together. But I don’t regret that there was only one brush with each other.
I often dream of you and I look across the river. I am on this side and you are on the other side. The mist on the river surface is misty, and you can only vaguely see the beauty of the other shore. The hairpin is hazy and the words are vague.
I would like to sneak into the former dynasty and become a historian. The verses written for you and the quatrains composed for you are carved on the bamboo slips and placed in the antique case, and they will circulate with the history for thousands of years. Even if everything turns to ashes, it is still engraved in my heart.
I am willing to walk through the underworld, cross the naihe, and take a closer look at the entanglement of you and me in the three lives on the three-life stone, the causes of the past life, the results of this life, and the reincarnation of fate. Dependent origination and cessation. Dreams linger on the Three Lives Stone, and three lives are realized by the Three Lives Stone. +
There are too many confusions and temptations in this life. My eyes are confused and my heart is disturbed. I may not be able to recognize you at first sight, who I have been searching for for three lives and three lives, but I believe that your everlasting love will eventually wipe away the dust that has spread in my heart from the confusion of the world. , will eventually heal the scars left in my heart by the world of drunkenness. Then hold your son's hand, grow old with him, and face all the misfortunes in the world with ease.
Tonight, when I was drunk, your face loomed at the end of the starry sky, giving me a toothy smile. I looked carefully, but the stars were brilliant, and I felt sad. Although the stars were beautiful, they were not as clear as yours. A graceful smile. A glass of sake passes through the intestines like the throat and spills to the top of the heart. Refreshing but bitter, this feeling is very similar to how I am haunted day and night but cannot see your face.
Whose eyes were wet, whose hearts were intoxicated, and whose face was thinned by that touch of classical sadness. Report anonymous answer acceptance rate: 42.9% 2009-07-18 20:18 In the river of time, the paper boat carrying him was somewhat rotten. I didn’t want to watch him follow the paper boat and sink, and be locked into eternity. death. So I built this tombstone to let his soul shine longer. I will come and offer sacrifices in my lifetime. ) "The clear water of Canglang can wash my clothes, and the turbid water of Canglang can wash my feet." In my opinion, Qu Yuan wanted to wrap himself in a white shirt that came from the clear stream, leaving his feet bare. Ah, he waded through the troubled waters of the troubled world he was in without any hesitation. Along the way, he tried his best to keep his white shirt unstained, imagining tomorrow in a daze.
The sun dispersed the dark clouds in the sky, and the stinky tide receded. The green grass under the fertile silt stretched out desperately, releasing a piece of fragrance contained in the buds.
At that time, he could finally put down his tired body and listen peacefully to the people of Chu singing their beloved Chu songs.
He walked like this year after year, no matter how painful his feet were and how cold his whole body was. He wrote Vanilla Beauty as "Li Sao", "Nine Songs" and "Mrs. Xiang", held it in his chest, and finally handed it to the world. And he himself has never arrived at tomorrow.
"When the whole world is turbid, I am alone clear. When everyone is drunk, I am alone awake." Qu Yuan made me realize that morality is pure white, and morality is like snow that has not yet fallen to the ground, flying in the blue sky. Let me look up and enjoy it with pleasure.
Qu Yuan himself was like a piece of snow that fell in the late Warring States period. It fell densely over the dim palace of the King of Chu and drifted into the hall. The King of Chu was hugging his three wives and four concubines, listening attentively to the lies of the sycophant. Zhang Yi stood aside and observed the situation, planning Qi Chu's departure.
The wind and snow began to roar, and the snowflakes blown up by the strong wind were sacrificed in the incense purple mist. The little people trembled; Zhang Yi took a step back and frowned at each other; the coy and coy King Huai shrank for a while, scolded and ordered to close the palace door. The angry Snowflake was locked out of the Chu State's corrupt government. Qu Yuan was exiled.
Qu Yuan was also a snow that fell on the people. The snowflakes were his tears frozen in the cold world. "I take a long breath to cover my tears, and feel sorry for the hardships of the people's lives." His morals are not cold, and everything is for the people of Chu. Therefore, he wanted Chu to prosper and never gave up hope even if he was exiled to a barbaric land. He collected folk songs and was once again moved by the simplicity and kindness of the people. He envisioned rushing back to the distant palace and complaining to the fatuous king about the sufferings of the people.
But Qu Yuan was wrong. He placed all his hopes on Emperor Chu. "It means that Jiutian thinks it is right, because I am practicing spiritually." He swore that Jiutian would be loyal to King Huai of Chu. But in reality, a "spiritual practitioner" is nothing more than a mediocre person who is not as talented as the average person, cannot see through the chaos in the world, and cannot hide from his impulse. The most fatal thing is that he cannot care about the common people. How can such a person concentrate on government affairs to make the country prosperous and the people happy?
When Chu was about to fall, Qu Yuan was still on his way to his second exile. Hope was completely shattered, Qu Yuan honored the Miluo River with his holy body.
"His ambition is pure, so he is called the world of beauty, and his conduct is honest, so he will not tolerate death." Qu Yuan turned into a snowflake and perished in the Miluo River, and lived forever in the land he loved so much. superior. His wish is to follow the river as it flows eastward. Now, he won't be dizzy in the machinations, and he won't be hurt in the deception. His ideals have been transformed by time into inspiring beliefs. He is honest, simple, and noble. In that era, he was so lonely. He was the only star in the sky and the only candle in the dark night.
"How can one's soul be so honest? People's hearts are not the same as mine." Unlike everyone around him, Qu Yuan was a pure spiritual pursuer, and morality comes from this. a spiritual consciousness. Justice and evil are like water and fire, completely broken in Qu Yuan's mind. He has no smooth philosophy of life. He only knows love and hate. He used all the strength of his life to protect the ones he loved, but was unable to deal with the villains who he hated and also hated him. So he sighed, "The world is turbid and unclear: a cicada's wing is heavy and a thousand junctures are light; the yellow bell is destroyed and the cauldron thunders; the slanderer is high and the wise man is nameless." The sigh contained all the kind-hearted people. The ideal is that the sky is clear and the righteousness is flowing. Qu Yuan once wanted to carry such a pure world on his own shoulders. What kind of courage was this? But later people became afraid, and no one dared to change their mind and follow the secular world, and feed on faith throughout their lives. Little do you know, if there were a few more poets and a few more brave men, the outcome of the matter would change and justice would eventually be done.
Supplementary comments from the reporter 2009-07-19 14:26 There are always many people coming and going in life, just like the passers-by on the road when we walk, some of them walk in the same direction as us, There are also people going in the same direction as us.
Things that go against us may be forgotten in an instant; perhaps, one day in our lives, we will occasionally think of some vague shadows, but only occasionally... …They are getting further and further behind us. Even if he turns back for some reason, he is already too far away and no matter how hard he tries, he may not be able to catch up.
Of those who are traveling with us, some will pass us by, and some will accompany us for a short distance, but the time will not be too long. There are too many forks in the road of life, and at every intersection, our choices will be different. You chose this path, so the only choice is to break up. On the new road, of course there will be new travelers, but there will also be new forks in the road.
Perhaps, we should have chosen another intersection, but on the other side of the road, we saw a person stopping and waiting. It was actually the person who had appeared thousands of times in our dreams. ah! We ran over in surprise, thinking that the person was waiting for us, but after we passed, we found that the person was waiting for someone else. Or maybe we simply recognized the wrong person. However, it is impossible to turn back. We can only go down this road that we do not want to choose.
Sometimes on the road, we also want to stop and wait for someone, but after waiting and waiting, that person never comes. Or maybe it’s finally here, and either people pass by without seeing it, or there’s already another traveler. We had no choice but to go on the road again alone. The scenery along the road was so beautiful that maybe we didn’t want to appreciate it for a long time.
We hope that there will be someone who can walk with us. There are wind and rain on the road of life, there are ditches and bumps, and there is a wolf, tiger and leopard that can eat people. How we want someone to hold an umbrella for us and give us a hand. Or when the jackals, tigers and leopards come, they can fight side by side with us. But there are always very few such people. If we can meet one in our life, we are lucky. We call them intimate lovers, because with them, we always feel that we are not old, and we will not be tired no matter how far we walk.
There are more people who only accompany us for a short distance. They are our friends. We are also grateful to them. They accompany us through a certain difficulty, or just enjoy a beautiful scenery. On the nice road, we laughed with them for a while, and we were equally grateful to them.
We walked like this, and such a long life passed by in a flash.
Let us look back - the sun is shining warmly, the wind is blowing gently, how many of the people coming and going around us are passed by, and how many are unforgettable? In fact, it doesn't matter anymore, they are just a fragment of our lives.
Most of the journey in life is made by ourselves.
Reporter’s Supplement 2009-07-19 14:26 In the middle of the night, where the dream begins, longing passes through the soul like Xisha, strong and raging. But still in the fleeting time of that year.
——Inscription
The bright moon rests on the sycamore tree standing alone in the dark night, and mottled shadows are exposed between the gaps between the trees. Unable to resist the temptation of the moon and shadow, my pen began to reminisce and my thoughts began to express emotions. The past bloomed in that spring season...
Give every mountain/every river/a warm name/write a letter to every relative and friend
Yours Your heart is always kind and your love is always thoughtful. You love everything around you, and you warm those people and things with your love. Whether it's a mountain or a river, even if you only have zero dialogue with them, you still want to treat them as friends. You are looking for love in the world you live in. Maybe they don't understand you, but you are willing to use actions to comfort everything. Maybe you are too pure, maybe you are too real, maybe you don't belong to this world at all.
Geniuses always have a loneliness that is not understood by the world, and loneliness forces you to accept everything and reject everything.
You accept the beautiful scenery of spring flowers blooming; you accept the unpredictable sea; you accept the pastoral life of chopping wood and feeding horses; you accept the things that exist in the world, but you give up possessions in existence. , on that ordinary and unforgettable day, you were holding your four beloved books, lying on the railway track, and letting the train roar past you. I really want to know what you thought of at that moment, freedom? Is it happiness? Or...
I can't imagine what heaven is like, but I know you will definitely be happy there. At least you have left the human world that makes you feel unhappy or dirty and tacky.
Gray sky, fallen angel.
In front of you, I am small. Compared with your courage, I am timid. You choose death in the face of loneliness, but I can only be sad and dare not despair. Between freedom and restraint, I only struggle a little when I am disappointed. I don’t have much courage to affirm something or deny something. In reality, I am sometimes confused and sometimes clear. My paper years are fragile, but they always carry Thick emotions and words in your favorite.
A girl who lives by her soul is lonely, and a lonely soul needs a support, that is, words.
It is words that make me think deeply, words that make me wise, and words that make me understand you more strongly, but your words are a string in my heart. From your words, I see In another world, there are dreams, youth, sentimentality, and everything I yearn for. There you told me: In addition to sentimentality, there is another thing blooming in the dreamy years - beauty.
The night is buoyant and corrosive. Only the night can reveal my longing for you nakedly.
Haizi, a poet who stops at youth and belongs to youth, is a true and pure poet who defends youth with his life. At the end of the night, my words interpret the loneliness of missing you.
Haizi, I am lonely.
To miss, use words.