Ask for a foreign essay ~ ~ preferably with an English translation. Thank you~

Take the hand of time and blow away the rain in your field of vision, leaving you with a gorgeous rainbow. Time shuttles through my fingers, with no regrets and ripples. The thick liquid rolls forever, but you and I, the displaced acacia leaves. Blow away the rain and let the rainbow take you away. Time flies through my fingers, and there are ripples without regrets. Viscous liquid stretches forever, in which you and I are washed away and lovesickness is endless. Inexplicably, I always feel that several precious memories will be deprived from me in the future. More than once, I dreamed that I was standing in a dark and empty space, and only one track extended to the distance under my feet. For example, in the long past, your time and ultimate disability were at the end of my vision. I always feel inexplicably that time is stripping precious memories from me. More than once, I dreamed that I was standing in an empty and dark space, with only one rail at my feet stretching into the distance, as long as the past, and finally disappearing at the end of my vision. I'm afraid of losing, I'm afraid of this time, I love it, but memories. I can't forget my sweaty brothers on the court, my crying best friend and the bright star that touches me every night. I am afraid of losing, I am so afraid of time, but I love memories so much. I can't forget the brothers who sweated together on the court, the bosom friends who shed tears with me, the starry sky night after night, and the words that moved me to this day. Those people and things, such as light rain, left four watermarks on the lake, dispersed to each other and melted each other's impact; If the stars on the horizon are still quiet and shining for thousands of years, they are not very bright, but they are clearly identifiable. They don't know how many bright and silent nights they spent with me during the day. Those people and things, such as the circular waterline left by drizzle on the lake, melted and collided with each other; For example, the stars that are still shining silently on the horizon after trillions of years are not very bright, but they are very clear. -They accompanied me through countless bright days and silent nights. In my memory, the third year is not gray, because I remember that unhappiness is not the fruit of love, and I still remember holding many of my friends, hoping to see the sunrise and sunset, and finally yellow everywhere. In my memory, senior three is not gray, because I remember how unloved love blooms, and I remember watching the sunrise and sunset hopefully with my friends, but in the end, yellow flowers are everywhere. Youth is the spring of the lotus, and the third year of high school is the season when the spring water gurgles and expands. However, I smell the problem of the bubble years. I don't reject these, but the pressure is too great to do much fun. Unfortunately, after the college entrance examination, even the pressure will come to become memories, which will become the evidence of my death in the living memory of my senior three. In the face of time, we are so helpless, the only thing left is the eye spring, and we have no oath of regret. I hope that day after day, year after year, when I turn this page over again, people will still. Youth is the spring of forgetting and worrying, and senior three is the season of swelling and bubbling in this spring. But I smelled a strong smell of exercise in the foam. I'm not rejecting this, but too much pressure does take away a lot of fun. It's a pity that after the college entrance examination, even the pressure will come to become memories, which will be the evidence for me to recall my lost senior three life. We are so powerless in the face of time, and the only thing left is the spring water and our vows of no regrets. I hope that day after day, year after year, when I turn to this page again, my heart will remain the same. I saw one chilling sentence after another: some people say that once you start to like it, those people's memories will get old. I only admit that I am mature and don't believe that I am old. My friends are growing up day by day, young and mature. How can I not have time to grow up on the outline of the first gray hair? I once read a sentence that gives me the creeps: Some people say that once you start to like memories, that person will get old. I only admit my maturity and don't believe that I am old. My friends grow up day by day, mature and in full bloom. How can we take the lead in aging contours before we grow up? "It's raining green in the sky, and I'm waiting for you. The moonlight is taken back and the ending is light." Jay's melancholy voice is completely different from commercial times's sentimentality. The bard carved a camel into the blue and white porcelain. "The sky is blue, it is raining, I am waiting for you, and the moonlight is salvaged, and I am dizzy." Jay's melancholy voice is completely different from that when he first debuted. He carved the steps of time on that blue and white porcelain like a bard. Our future? My friend, I will wait for you at the other end of time. What about our future? My friend, I will wait for you at the other end of time. Article source:/a/waiguomeiwen/2012/0411/340.html.