"Qing Ji, you are in my heart. Even if I don't go, I won't inherit this voice, will I?" I heard her singing. On the corner of the blue brick high city, a girl with fine eyes is singing slowly and gently. Her voice is clear as a bird's song and gentle as a glass ball rolling on the tip of her tongue. Spring has arrived. Trees are blooming, birds are jumping on the branches, youth is blooming in the willows and melting in the riverside. Year after year, the heat of summer can't melt her, the rain of autumn can't get wet, and even the cold of winter can't beat her. "Peach flies and burns its flowers", and no season can stop youth.
No day announces the end, no night symbolizes the end, no night can stop youth, just as no temple can stop the bell. "Young people listen to the rain songs upstairs, and the red candle is faint." The words are fragrant, the fallen flowers are independent, and the swift flies. "The night is like a dark fire," Haizi said. "No tears can turn me into a flower and no king can turn me into a throne." Therefore, even if the day is almost over and the twilight is coming, even if the sun is setting all over the ground and the blue is full of smoke. I will think of Gu Cheng's poem: "Lift water to see the mountains, see the fire being carried away by smoke, leaves falling one after another, shadows are long and beams are heavy." "I am willing to wait silently, waiting for the eager call of youth and looking forward to the baptism of spring water.
Sister Amaran's youth was imprisoned in the thick black veil on her hand. Like a bird with broken wings, she can't sing a song symbolizing new life. Marquez wrote in the preface of Love in Cholera: "These places are ahead of others, and they already have their own corolla goddess." Fermina's youth blooms on the blooming buds. As a goddess of Corolla, she has lively, youthful tension and flamboyant youth. There is no time to stop youth. Who can say that listening to the rain is not youth on the boat, but rain hitting passenger ships? In the drizzle in the south of the Yangtze River in that misty and rainy March, the dripping rain dripped slowly like a poem, like a whisper from youth lying in life. Who can say that Jia Xuan's "watching the sword after drinking, dreaming back to a corner" makes Weng's "sad but not seeing Kyushu Garden" not youth, with frosted temples and rickety back, which can only explain the passage of time, but the wanton vitality, radiant happiness and youthful vitality in his heart are all youth, just like being unable to stop youth in the cold winter.
Mr. Mu Xin wrote in his poem, "Lend me an old age, lend me fragments, lend me foresight, and lend me the stubbornness of my youth." Even when old age is approaching, youth still stays in the heart, and no death can stop it. Rouge the Bat in the "Conte" Cafe sticks to her youth in the eternal night, waiting for love. Remedy ascended to heaven under the wind, but her youth, her really gentle heart that day, is still stationed on earth. Death is just a festival that will come, just the freezing of a river, just the fall of a petal forest, just the long singing of a song, just the curtain call of a play. In the unbearable silence covered by black veil, I can still see the face of youth through the cold white light of the bright moon and the short Songshan Mountain, so bright and beautiful, as beautiful as a moth. I know she has been there.
I fantasize about having the life that Zvieva imagined, enjoying the endless dusk and the continuous bell. No one has the right to disturb, let time slip gently and guard the tulips in that hospital. I am willing to protect my inner sincerity and purity. I look forward to guarding my pious optimism and vitality. No loneliness can stop youth, no loneliness can stop youth. Let youth touch my face and let the drizzle moisten my life. I would like to be a lonely wild flower in the forest and live in the room of youth rather than leave.
If I had a choice, I would like to die in the tide of youth, listen to the ebb and flow of the tide and watch the moon fall. Youth, she is not a poem, nor a song, nor an empty age range.
She is the starry sky, the vastness of the universe, nature and the long river of life. She is a freshman, the first beautiful flower that blooms when spring breaks through the cold winter, and the red carp that jumps out of the spring.
Nothing in the world can stop youth, and I refuse to stop her. I want to be her doorman.
Please let me open the door for you.
Label: Youth