Time is like a song. You and I wrote it, and you and I interpreted it. Beautiful songs, beautiful notes, is a song that makes people linger.
Looking back suddenly, the vicissitudes of life on the road have become indelible memories! The dream left in my heart has become the "Peach Blossom Garden" that people admire.
What is quietly in our hearts? What left love and hate in our hearts? Do you still remember those dreamy years?
Walking hand in hand with you has never been hurt or painful. The long years have touched many people's hearts. How many affectionate memories are deeply buried. I want to pick up those yellowed photos and recall my happiness. However, everything is like a flower in the mirror and a moon in the water, which is beyond my reach.
Walking along the banks of Danshui River, watching the running water rush by, it seems to see the thin figure of Confucius standing on the banks of the river, sighing at the rushing running water: "The deceased is like a husband, and he is reluctant to give up day and night." Is it a lesson for the ancients or your own understanding? Why are they so lonely? Why is the heart that was once so full so empty at this moment?
In the long river of years, I sailed in a canoe and set sail from the source of life. Maybe I can only find a bright future if I miss the other shore in the rapids! The rain wet my clothes and blurred my eyes. I hit the rocks on the river, on the river.
I don't know how to sympathize. The long river of years has been shaken by the wind, but I still put a canoe to break the waves. Not afraid of bumps or capsizing. I just want to prove that I am not a traveler. Will a peach blossom garden suddenly become a hell on earth in the long river of years? I don't understand the meaning of life, so I have to continue to sail in the river and drift to the ends of the earth to watch the sunset to calm down the twists and turns in my life.
I walked without regrets, not sorry for the lost youth, not mourning for this old body. I don't care about the moving flash of a flash in the pan. I once had a flash, which was a dazzling light in the years.
Everything has a beginning and an end, and the wheel of life turns quietly and gently. It moves quietly in places that you and I have never noticed. Life goes on and on, and fate keeps moaning. In this unspeakable desolation, there is beauty. This is the beauty of tragedy, this is the beauty of struggle-not afraid of being crushed to pieces, full of hope in my heart, putting the symbols of life together again and creating a more beautiful self.
In the season when the wind blows, only the leaves dance with them, and the rest are just lonely whispers. In this season, the years are like songs. I sing softly, are you listening? Are you wasting your time all these years? Or are you writing a different song? Make up a beautiful dream that is different from the past and looks forward to the future. When the wind stops, everything will return to its original state. But haven't you found your goal yet?
Don't worry about whether there are cliffs on the road ahead and whether the bridge ahead has been repaired. The figure of years may run in front of you, leaving you at a loss. So, dare to love and hate.
The wind blows leaves all over the ground/the Yangtze River is not equal to the east/memories are like cocoons/years are like songs.
Flowers bloom and fall in dreams, and life drifts. Don't let the years be so lonely, life should have a complete song of the years!