When cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove.
When the smoke of ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty?
I am still stubbornly spreading the ashes of disappointment?
Write with beautiful snowflakes: believe in the future?
When my purple grapes turn into dewdrops in late autumn.
When my flowers snuggle up to other people's feelings?
I still stubbornly use frosted vines?
Write on the desolate land: believe in the future?
I'm going to use my fingers to break the waves that rush to the horizon?
I want to hold the sea of the sun with my palm?
Warm and beautiful pen swaying the morning light?
Write with a child's pen: Believe in the future?
Why do I believe in the future?
I believe in the vision of future people?
Did she brush away the eyelashes of history?
Does she have a student who can see through time?
No matter what others think of our rotting bodies.
Those lost blues, the pain of failure?
Is it moved tears and deep sympathy?
Or give a contemptuous smile and bitter ridicule?
I firmly believe that people are interested in our spine?
Countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes?
Will give a warm, objective and fair evaluation?
Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their comments?
My friend, believe in the future.
Believe in indomitable efforts?
Believe in young people who overcome death?
Believe in the future and love life.
Passionate reading with a sense of life.