When You Are Old
William Ye Zhi
When you are old, white-headed, sleepy and dozing by the fire, please take down this poem,
read it slowly and recall the softness of your eyes in the past,
recall their heavy shadows in the past
When many years later, you open that book.
In the furnace, the flickering flames outline your vicissitudes of life, which are no longer angular. The jumping flames dyed your disheveled white hair red, and also brushed away the coldness of your eyes soaked by years, just like the warmth and persistence of your palms in the past years. Can you taste this line over and over again, and you can't help but chase back the time?
The dim lights shed mottled projections, and the melancholy voices comforted me to sit by the computer. I remember your smiles and your wayward little drops when I tapped huskily, and I talked about my lovesickness with the last night, slowly chewing the lost intimacy. Ask your heart, what I write at my fingertips is the end of time that has never been lost.
-"When You Are Old" William Ye Zhi
How many people love your youthful exuberance,
adore you's beauty, hypocrisy or sincerity,
only one person loves your pilgrim soul,
loves the painful wrinkles on your aging face;
"How many people have had adore you's flowery face when he was young, but who is willing to bear the relentless changes of time? How many people have come and returned in your life? How can you know that I am willing to stay with you all my life ..." I deeply know that my unwarranted love will not change in the long journey, and I will worship it in my heart like a belief, pray for thousands of times in a palace that is not too bright, forget my loss and spend my life piously.
after many years, if you see this yellowed confession, you will think of the dependence and lingering under the willows shrouded in the afterglow of the sunset, and you will remember that there was such an infatuated person who quietly patted you and hummed a faint little song when you were tired and sad and lonely, gently holding you to open the beginning of a not wonderful story. You know, that is the trace of love, which is naturally revealed by love, and is a picture book of your life and mine.
After many years, if you see this yellowed confession, you will think of the blue sea where we played, the beach with overlapping footprints between the ebb and flow, and the white sand castle you gave me. Once upon a time, I always thought that such a story could only be brilliantly told with you, and only the warmth I gave you would last for a long time. After years, in where will you go, the fate gathered and parted, and I suddenly understood that it is good to have someone who loves you by your side. She loves you from the heart without hypocrisy, loves the vicissitudes of your life, and loves the imprint of years on your sad face.
-"When You Are Old" William Ye Zhi
hung his head, and by the red-light stove,
whispered sadly about the loss of love,
paced slowly on the mountain overhead,
hid his face among a group of stars
After many years, you picked up this confession that fell from the poetry collection and read it. Looking back on the past twilight in turn, there may be a quiet smile, but my nagging has long since disappeared around you, and maybe you will sprout again to enjoy my annoyance, but this flush will definitely be hidden quietly.
after many years, if you read this yellowed confession, maybe the years have washed away your temples, maybe the annual rings have wrinkled your face, or maybe the romantic and boyish feelings have grown old in a hurry, and that affectionate confession has precipitated into a heavy and deep suffering.
It is no longer the green age of joys and sorrows. Holding hands and carrying the old will eventually become empty. In fact, it is important that after years of running around, we still have a small note in our hearts to burn our memories, and a small note to witness the innocence and beauty that people are born with. This has nothing to do with shame and absurdity.
The stars are fighting to blink. That's my confession that I wrote to you in those years. So far, it's true. One after another, I love eternity between the lines.