This stream is eager to flow to the ocean.
The tide is eager to return to land.
In front of the hedge with green trees and white flowers
I waved goodbye so easily.
After 20 years of changes,
Our souls come back every night.
When the breeze blows.
It became a garden full of fragrance.
Youth without complaining
At a young age
If you love someone,
Please be gentle with her.
No matter how long you have been in love.
If you can always be gentle with each other, then
All the moments will be flawless beauty.
If you have to part.
I also want to say goodbye.
And be grateful.
Thank her for giving you a memory.
You won't know until you grow up.
At the moment when I suddenly turned around.
Youth without resentment has no regrets.
Like the quiet moon on the mountain.
fierce/wild/violent wind
Just bow your head and say goodbye.
Is there anything in the world that can really go back?
What about the river?
Just like the grassland meeting in autumn.
Withered and withered together
Let's meet, too
Meet and forget each other
It's just that the wind never stops.
Always in a hurry in the forest.
On the side of the mountain, on a strange street corner.
Sweep my mottled heart
Cleaning, those left behind
Memory is like autumn leaves.
Pick up a letter from a friend
Failed
Is it just a day in late spring?
Forgotten
Just you and my face?
Rush to the eyes
It's a dusty day and night.
Dusty Chinese New Year and autumn grass
The arched eyebrows slowly receded.
This is a silent song.
A poem without words
dusk
On a young night
I heard a song.
Clear and lingering
Like a mountain wind blowing through lilies.
When you crave again
But it is silent.
No trace, no place.
Leaving the moonlight in the air makes people feel warm.
One night twenty years later.
What is the similarity of that night?
Unexpectedly, the melody came lightly.
The mountain drum should hit my heart.
Looking back on the road.
The green of the gray horizon
This is a hard life.
In the twilight
Turned into sweet tears
Meet sb. leave
Not all dreams can come true in time.
Not everything is told to you in time.
Guilt and regret
Always plant it deeply in your heart after parting.
Although they say
Everything in the world will eventually become empty.
I didn't mean to miss it.
But I've been doing this all the time
Miss yesterday's flowers.
Missed the gift again
We are going to repeat the same parting today.
I will be a stranger for the rest of my life.
Thousands of miles away in the twilight
Bow deeply to you
Please take care of me.
Although they say there are all kinds of things in the world.
It will be empty in the end.
Hometown I have never seen before (reading)
What bothers our generation is rootless memory, which is endless. Sometimes a surging undercurrent suddenly rushes to you, which makes you unable to cope. Sometimes I will get close to you and tie a knot in your heart. But you can't find out where this knot is, why and for whom.
Three years ago, I spent a summer in Switzerland and made some local friends. We often climb mountains together. One day, one of the boys invited us to his house to play. His home is located on a hillside with a big orchard. When you go out from the back door, you can see a large forest surrounded by a deep lake behind the mountain. The boy pointed to a big cherry tree outside his courtyard wall and said:
"Do you see the fifth branch on the left from below? That hand is crooked, see? It was when my father was seven years old. He climbed the tree to pick cherries. It was also in that summer that my grandfather saw him and punished him for sitting on that branch all afternoon, and he was not allowed to come down. That branch has been crooked ever since. "
Maybe he is scaring me, or maybe his father is scaring him. However, his attachment to home, his nostalgia for childhood and his denial of the passage of time can all be satisfied by this big tree, even by a crooked branch of this big tree. Therefore, he even speaks with a little pride. What about me? Shall I show him my slippers? I may be able to sing him that nursery rhyme, but can he understand it? Even if he finally understands, can this weight be equal to the huge plants planted by his great-grandmother in front of him? Can it stand that he was born on the ground and he has his land?
And the more I miss my hometown I've never seen before.
When I was a child, I liked listening to my father talk about the scenery of my hometown. On winter nights, several people sat together and pestered their father to tell stories that happened outside the Great Wall over and over again. We children were born in the south, but we still have the blood of a land we have never seen before. Relying on the story of my father's ancestors, the photos of desert scenery we accidentally found in some magazines, and the annual ancestor worship festival, I accumulated bit by bit and pieced it together bit by bit, and my lovely hometown gradually took shape. And my childhood, it is in this patchwork of warmth that I grew up slowly.