Here is a speech, there should be some excerpts, I wrote it myself^_^ The title is "Youth is the Wind" Youth is the wind, bold and crazy, simple and passionate; youth It is the wind, chasing dreams and not afraid of being forgotten. ——The poet Lu Li wrote in "Mud": "Always think of yourself as a pearl/I am always afraid of the pain of being buried/Treat yourself as a piece of soil/Let everyone step on you into a road." Regarding the expression in the poem, I don't quite agree with this view. The poet's honest, selfless and ordinary love for "earth" expresses the "selfless and selfless" outlook on life that was popular in his era and is praised by people. However, today is the 21st century, an era of fierce competition, and as young people, we are at the forefront of competition. If at this time, we still pursue unconditional dedication, and everyone is willing to be soil and be stepped on by others, then youth is no longer youth - because there is a lack of passion, a lack of charge, and a lack of struggle! Youth should be like the flying wind, striving for pearl-like splendor. "Coil" is certainly worthy of respect and is an indispensable part of society, but what about "pearls"? Assuming that everyone's starting point is a grain of sand, then the process of a grain of sand being tempered in a shell is the process of chasing dreams. Maybe you may not succeed, but at least you have a dream and have fought hard. Therefore, some sand has become dazzling pearls, and some sand has become an eternal "drifter". I think that if the sand that becomes a "pearl" never regards itself as an untouched pearl, then he will never become a real "pearl". There is a saying that goes well: "Only those who love to fight will win." A capable person who is stingy with performance and gives up opportunities is not being generous, but being timid. Such behavior will make you sink in the whirlpool of competition and be eliminated by the times. Youth is the wind, destiny is the sea. "When the wind blows up a thousand-foot waves," youth should be regarded as the master of destiny, rather than an escape under the good name. Therefore, I appreciate the style of poet Wang Guozhen more than Lu Li. Every moment, full of hope and vitality that challenges destiny. He said: "Opportunities/Fate by yourself/Destiny/Catch by yourself/Life is your own drawing board/Why rely on others to color it!" He said: "Even today/No one can recognize a star/So tomorrow/Why not be a bright moon? Wheel? "So majestic, so unrestrained, this is youth! Flying like the wind, in this limited life, find a shining point and fly towards your dreams! Youth is like the wind, how can it lie at the feet of others ***? Fly high, in this prosperous era! The Poetry of Youth Youth is a song that never gives up. Youth is a river that never stops. Youth is a book that can never be tired of reading. Youth is a cup of endless tea. Youth is a peak that stands in the forest of nations. It has been imprinted on thousands of people. The footprints of millions of young people. Youth is a pagoda of knowledge that sheds the sweat of millions of young people. Youth is a tree that is growing vigorously, tested by wind and rain. Youth is a bud that is ready to bloom and wants to be shown to the world. With my unique demeanor, I gave myself a gift of youth with a passionate and unrestrained youthful heart, which is the poem of youth, Four Songs of Youth (1) Flying Snow in March. There was a snowstorm in March, and my mother left without a trace. What disappears in the sky is not only the winter sunshine but also the flying figures of doves. The strings of the piano are broken. I lie down on the mountain top deep in the clouds and cry. March is the season when flowers bloom, and my harvest is indeed the withered flowers of the world and the falling snow. The dead leaves danced on the road. I sat on the ground and looked up at the gate of heaven and the river that could not be crossed. The stars had long since disappeared. There was no caress of the moon on the ditch. I played the song "Youth" about lovesickness on a snowy night on top of my tears. Poetry - Chongqing The blooming and fading flowers of youth make me tired but not regretful; the falling rain and snow in the four seasons make me intoxicated but unbearable and haggard. The gentle wind and green dreams, the gentle morning and dusk, the faint clouds and the faint tears, the faint years. With a bit of wandering joy, I just left like this and never came back. No one hinted at the boring feeling of homesickness that I felt when I was young. I want to cling tightly to every golden sunset, and wash away my accumulated sadness with every transparent dewdrop. In that distant spring scenery, I met her in full bloom, filled with dazzling brilliance like a beautiful fairy tale. Allow me to sing for you. I won’t be able to sleep every night from now on. Allow me to cry for you. In the tears, I can fly freely. The sky in the dream is huge and I am lying on your eyelashes. The days in the dream are many, but I start to want to go home. I want to bury all my songs on that green hillside, waiting for the day when they will be legendary in the world. The flowers of youth bloom and fade, which makes me tired but I don’t regret it. The rain and snow in the four seasons make me intoxicated but haggard. The entangled clouds, entangled tears, entangled mornings and dusk, the passing wind, the passing dreams, the passing years. Ideal Liusha River Ideal is a stone, knocking out a spark; Ideal is a fire, igniting an extinguished lamp; Ideal is a lamp, lighting up the road at night; Ideal is a road, leading you to dawn. In an era of hunger and cold, the ideal is food and clothing; in an era of food and clothing, the ideal is civilization. In an era of chaos, the ideal is stability; in an era of stability, the ideal is prosperity. Ideals are like pearls, one connected to another, connecting the past and present, and stringing together the future, shining endlessly. A beautiful string of pearls, the backbone of history, the past reflects on the present, the present reflects on the future, and the ancestors reflect on the descendants.
The ideal is a compass, which guides the direction of the ship; the ideal is the ship, which carries you on a long journey to the sea. But sometimes ideals are like the arc of the sea and the sky kissing each other, elusive and out of reach, torturing your enterprising heart. Ideals make you observe life with a smile; ideals make you stubbornly resist fate. Ideals make you forget your premature gray hair; ideals make you still naive with your gray hair. Ideal is an alarm clock, crushing your golden dream; Ideal is soap, washing away your selfish heart. Ideal is both a kind of gain, and ideal is also a kind of sacrifice. If ideals bring you honor, it is only a by-product of it, but more of a misunderstood loneliness, laughter in loneliness, and bitterness in laughter. Ideals make honest people often suffer misfortunes; ideals make unfortunate people survive in desperate situations. Ordinary people become great because they have ideals; a person with ideals is a "capital person". There are always people in the world who abandon their ideals, but ideals never abandon anyone. To give sinners new life, the ideal is the resurrecting fairy grass; to call the prodigal son back, the ideal is the loving mother. If your ideal has been tarnished, don't be resentful. It's the devil testing your steadfastness. If your ideal has been stolen, don't cry. Go get it back quickly. Be careful in the future! A hero loses his ideals and turns into a mediocre person, boasting about his achievements in the past; a mediocre person loses his ideals and lives a mediocre life, ridiculously cursing the environment in front of him. When ideals blossom, peaches and plums will bear sweet fruits; when ideals sprout, eucalyptus trees will have fruits. Dark. Please ride on your ideal horse and set off with a whip. The spring scenery is just right on the road and the sun is clear in the sky. It is never like the climbing flowers in the sky, borrowing your branches to show off; it is never like the infatuated birds, repeating monotonous songs for the green shade; nor like the source, which brings cool comfort all year round, nor is it like the dangerous peaks, which increase your The height, setting off the majesty, even the sunlight, even the spring rain. No, these are not enough! I must be a kapok near you, standing with you as the image of a tree. The roots are clenched in the ground, and the leaves are touching. In the clouds. Every time the wind passes, we greet each other, but no one understands our language. You have your copper branches and iron rods, like knives, like swords, and also like halberds. I have my red flowers, like heavy weights. Sigh. Like a heroic torch, we share the cold waves, wind and thunder, and thunderbolts, and we enjoy the mist, mist, and rainbow. It seems like we are separated forever, but we are dependent on each other for life. This is youth, the ideal sunshine, the ideal sunshine water The same transparent body is fascinating. It started from a book, a casual look and a bizarre story. The origin is hazy and unknown. The snow melts and the chirping of birds in the sky is no longer interrupted. The bright spring outside the mountains and forests remains. A hint of youth, it responds to an inspiration from the human heart with its green flow. The ideal sunlight is reflected by the water and the body of the water, and then the inverted perception and figure are like one story connected to another story that stretches endlessly. Your own body and world. Let the desert recede and let the condensed clouds and unreasonable thoughts drift away in the wind. Let the fearless spirits of the earth play a holy and lasting movement. Let the lovesickness and enlightenment that penetrate deeply into destiny point directly to the ideal sunshine ahead and disappear. The blue and deep meaning of the water, its contemplation from far to near, from near to far, is approaching step by step, the murmurings of reality and illusion, and all the migrations and loves forgotten by greedy dreams, suppressed conscience, or blank and ignorant eyes. The words that are brought about by ideals must also be about the perception of life and sunshine. The thoughts latent in the soul are like the words from ancient times in spring. How should we use the hands of the soul to touch and read in order to make the dull emotions in the strands The only season for wandering through the illusion of clouds and then suddenly opening up like flowers is spring. Spring is indeed full of vitality with the singing of birds and the fragrance of flowers. Why is the rainy season also spring? Wisps of green smoke mixed with drizzle, as if the world was shrouded in haze. Everything is so false, even the air is lying. When we are in the flower season, we are not as vibrant as the sun at eight or nine o'clock in the morning, nor are we blooming as brightly as flowers, but as melancholy. Was it too much rain? Instead of nourishing our souls, it scrubbed away our ***. Therefore, we cannot be a generation of angry young people, we can only be a generation of boring young people. Originally, it was enough for flowers to be moistened by natural rainwater, but why do they need to be watered? We are not three-year-old children. Why have everything we can and should do been replaced? What should we do? read. We are not "dead scholars", nor are we "evaluating scholars with stereotyped writing". Why don't they give us a space and the opportunity to be independent? Why do parents impose their own hobbies on us, develop in the direction they specify, and follow the path they have already planned for us. This kind of life will inevitably make us irritable. When the rainy season comes, can we not attribute our rebellion to the rainy season? Adolescence is rebellious, what am I afraid of, I have to go my own way; adolescence is full of flowers, I show my personality, what's wrong with me; adolescence is boring, I am decadent, how can I stop at the cliff. I have my own ideas, I have my personality, why do I have to do it in the traditional way. If I can’t gamble, I’ll keep silent; I’m not an angry young man, so I can just be a boring young man! I followed my own path, how could I become like a horse running wild in the plains, out of control?
You can say that you are taking the wrong road, but why did Lu Xun say, "There is no road in the world, but when there are more people walking on it, it becomes a road." After I take this road, who will know that it is wrong, even if it is the last step? , you can't Tibet the conclusion either. Life is philosophy, but philosophy cannot be fully applied in life. It is inevitable to say that studying is not the only way out, it must be the way to go. Youth is the flower season, I can also say it is the rainy season.
Youth is the most beautiful flowering season in life
Youth is like poetry
Youth is like picturesque
Youth is fascinating
Like spring’s hurried footsteps longing for summer
Youth is intriguing
Like the twilight mist savoring the last glory of colorful clouds
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Maybe
Youth is just a mountain flower next to the green mountains and green waters
It has withered inadvertently
Maybe
< p> Youth is just a cloud of mountain mistWithout the enlightenment of drunkenness, it will not become a drop of nectar
?
Maybe
Youth is just a horse
Unrestrained in the wilderness
Without a goal, you will go astray
Maybe
Youth is just a milestone in life
Engraving the past indicates the future
Maybe
Youth is just a plot
It is difficult to understand her without being immersed in it The secret of
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Youth is speechless
Youth has no regrets
Youth has no regrets
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p>The footsteps of youth pass through the mountains and dense forests
Walk through the grassland and the golden beach
Looking for the blue dream
Youth will not be affected by the strong wind Dejected by heavy rain
Youth will not dry up due to thunder and lightning
Youth will not blame everyone because of the gloomy tomorrow
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< p> It is the aura of heaven and earthThe essence of the sun and the moon
It gives strength to youth
It is also mixed with the charming romance of spring
The fiery warmth of summer
The richness and elegance of autumn
And the purity and tranquility of winter
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Youth
Will definitely play the most powerful melody for the strivers
Youth
Will definitely compose the most gorgeous poems for the creators
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