I started to read those poems, where I saw the holy snow-capped mountains shining brightly in the sun; where I heard the sighs of migratory birds piercing the sky and scattering their feathers; and where I witnessed the flowers blooming one by one. The spots are gorgeous and you can smell the fragrance. I understand what kind of romance and longing there is in my heart, and the hard pursuit in reality. All of that is just a description of the beauty of some imaginary flowers blooming on nothingness, but the withering of the flowers and the decay of the flowers have never been deeply recorded by you.
In your poems, there are unattainable dreams, the innocent dreams of childhood, but have you seen the helplessness of those falling flowers? If you don't want to see it, it's because you can't bear to see how ferocious and decaying the remaining traces are when the flowers fall. In fact, falling flowers is just a kind of fate. Even if it is decadent, you can still see the traces of its former glory. Why should we be afraid?
Those poems lure people to yearn for nothingness and return to reality, only to find out how vulnerable everything is, and what kind of loss and despair they feel?
So, I don’t imagine too much beauty. Often, things that are too beautiful are as short-lived as an epiphyllum and disappear quickly.
I would rather see everything at its simplest and ugliest, and then in the real despair, see the green grass and fragrant spring bringing vitality, and life will be happy from this. Some despair, in the plain and real , suddenly warm and happy.
So, I don’t like to see those crystal-pure dreams every day, the illusion that lures people into nothingness. I don’t want to be like a child, full of illusions about the future.
I said, love is no longer an important part of life. Love left me a long time ago. And those forgotten memories, those profound beauties of the past, may one day be remembered deeply and missed bitterly. There are some things that should be forgotten, and there is no need to treat them as the whole of life. This is the difference between me and you. You said you still think of it often. You use your thoughts to construct an illusion of nothingness. And I, using some daylight, describe some journeys. During the journey, there are real scenery and story mood.
Go to some directions with some people and find reasons to be happy. And more often than not, it's just a quiet life alone. Just like those other shore flowers that bloom in damp and dark places, no one sees its face, and no one knows how hard it works. It blooms the most beautiful flowers in its season, and then withers with the seasons. In fact, it is not necessary. Someone understands, and there will always be someone on the other side of the shore, looking equally quietly, silently watching the season on the other side.
I think that in this world, there will not be a close friend like Zhong Ziqi, let alone the poetry and romance in your poems. Then, let yourself listen to the songs peacefully, walk on our real journey, sing third-rate songs, and drink wine and eat meat with some equally worldly people. Speaking the most secular words in the world of mortals, eating, drinking and having fun, this is the reality of life.