My future is not a dream poem.

For example, spring silkworms wrap themselves in layers and weave beautiful dreams. They always hope that one day they can break out of their cocoons and turn into colorful butterfly shadows. In the morning, they carry heavy bags and embark on a long journey, always thinking that hard work will yield. My future is not a dream to find a place with seawater. The dream of the future, in the days when the breeze is intoxicated, looks at my ten years of hard study. Browne's eyes looked at the connected sea and sky. Oh, my God, how can you blame me for volunteering for poverty? I can't stop studying. I can fly at the grass-roots level with knowledge. When the breeze comes, I will go to the top of the world.