As we grow up, many joys are added to our lives, but these joys are indeed very different from the joys we first came into contact with.
The memory of youth is like a colorful bouquet, exuding an elegant fragrance, just like holding a white jasmine flower for the first time when you were young, and your heart is filled with the sweetness of memories.
The feeling of the first experience is like the first jasmine, touching the gurgling water and the green earth together.
Just as jasmine is used in the poem to express the yearning for the beauty of nature, while living a comfortable life, it also encourages everyone to be grateful for the joy they have had and cherish everything they have now.
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with these jasmines, these white jasmines. of jasmine.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
I have heard the liquid murmur of the river through the darkness of midnight;
I heard the murmur of the river flowing through the darkness of midnight;
Autumn sunsets have come to me at the bend of the road in the lonely waste, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover.
The autumn sunset greeted me at the corner of the road in the wasteland, like a bride raising her veil to accept her lover. lover.
Yet my memory is still sweet with the first white jasmines that I held in my hands when I was a child.
But I think of the first white jasmines that I held in my hands when I was a child. White Jasmine, my heart is full of sweet memories.
Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights.
Many a glad day has come in my life, and I have laughed with merrymakers on festival nights.
I used to laugh along with the joke teller.
On gray mornings of rain I have crooned many an idle song.
On gray mornings of rain, I have recited many elegant poems.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of Bakulas woven by the hand of love.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of Bakulas woven by the hand of love.
I have worn round my neck the evening wreath of Bakulas woven by the hand of love.
Yet my heart is sweet with the memory of the first fresh jasmines that filled my hands when I was a child.
White Jasmine, my heart is full of sweet memories.