When we shake off the dust of the years,
Touch the strings of years,
In the best three years of my life,
Our left hand holds youth,
The right hand drives growth.
(Music begins)
Narrator (female): Freshman is a boat.
I always stand on the side of the boat.
I miss beautiful mountains and rivers.
And dreamy poems that can't be expressed in words.
Self-report (female): the freshness of coming to the university campus for the first time, and the first time I have a particularly cordial feeling about the word "hometown"; The first time was to have a heart-to-heart talk with my roommate at night; Stay away from your parents for the first time and learn to take care of yourself; I miss my hometown so strongly for the first time, and I feel the ecstasy of reuniting with my relatives and friends for the first time ... These firsts have been engraved into my life, which makes me understand life. In a sense, it is to constantly create "firsts" for myself, constantly challenge myself and surprise myself.
Narrator (male): Summer breeze, blue coast,
The circular stone steps of the music square,
The long-lost passion is calling in my heart,
Ahead, shining with the ideal light.
Narrator (female): sophomore year is a petrel.
Just want to fly all over the blue sea and blue sky,
But I didn't expect my eyes to be shallow.
Mistake a desert island for the edge of the coast.
Self-report (female): Looking at the new students coming and going, it seems like a repeat of life last year. I just realized that I am a sophomore. So it's like meeting an old friend and going to the seaside on purpose. A year ago, it was this sea that witnessed the beginning of my dream. As a result, the wind and fire rushed to the vigorous battlefield. However, the outline of the dream has not become clear. Looking at the brilliant achievements is like fighting a battle without an opponent. Fatigue is full of joy, and there is still a trace of confusion after joy.
Narrator (male): Loss always stays in waiting for growth.
You see that dreams are far away from you,
But I don't know that everything is just a scenery in the fog.
When the fog clears, youth will glow,
Wait patiently, and decay will eventually become magic.
Self-report (female): Starting junior year means being anxious, graduating and looking for a job. Before I could catch my breath, it was the season of eulogy in a blink of an eye. Those sunny days, those cold days, those rainy days, those happy or frustrated days, those days that have not yet arrived and have not been cherished will all leave me.
My life is about to enter another color. After one dream comes true, another dream is ready to set sail. Just, will our ideal come true? Is our future waiting?
Narrator (male): Three years in college is a difficult journey for young people and fellow travelers.
Wind and rain, laughter and tears, into the same dream,
Casting memories into eternal figures of each other,
Our dreams wake up at the same dawn.
Self-report (female): Three years.
Sometimes confused, sometimes sober.
On the road to growth,
Many people come and go,
Many voices are forgotten by us.
Narrator (female): Looking back on youth,
Looking for precious memories,
Go through three years
Leave a feeling of growth.
Narrator (male): But there are always some things.
Smart as you can't predict,
There's always something to say,
I couldn't understand it when I was young.
There will always be some simple regrets,
Simple as ever.
There will always be some changes,
Over time.
We are still young.
I don't know anything, but I love to laugh.
Why are grandparents so old?
We used to laugh
Laugh at yourself for not knowing anything.
But only the smiling moon bent down.
But everyone who just loves to laugh is puzzled.
We are still young.
I don't believe in anything, but I can't listen to anything.
Just casual.
In the early years
But I always like to say that we were young.
I don't know anything, but I love to laugh.
Why are grandparents so old?
We used to laugh
Laugh at yourself for not knowing anything.
But only the smiling moon bent down.
But everyone who just loves to laugh is puzzled.
We are still young.
I don't believe in anything, but I can't listen to anything.
Just casual.
the past
At that time, the years of the Qing Dynasty flew by like birds.
Wipe a touch of bright red.
then
Scattered in the air by the breeze.
remain; stay
There is only one scar.