If the motherland is a ship on a distant voyage, my pen is an oar paddling forcefully forward; if life is a long, lingering melody, my footsteps are the bouncing, lively notes.
Who you were ten years ago, a year ago, or even yesterday does not matter. What matters is who you are today. Life is exhausting; if you are not tired now, you may face even greater fatigue in the future. Life is bitter; if you are not enduring hardship now, it may become more difficult later.
Three thousand strands of hair fall at the waist, three thousand grains of dust settle on the ground, where do the three thousand threads of worry fall? Words fail to express what is truly in the heart, and though the mind has a direction, where should the gaze rest? Leaves and flowers fall, the breeze flows, and silver light spills down, sealing the dust of this lifetime. Gazing at this solitude, a sense of desolate chill arises in the heart, and tears of loneliness fall. The excavated torrents flow ceaselessly; it turns out I am alone here, and the sound of falling tears has drowned out the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Once upon a time, you had just returned home, and a friend called to invite you out for fun. Without hesitation, you immediately put on your clothes and went out. Nowadays, however, you respond only lazily.
What you once possessed, do not forget; what you cannot obtain, cherish even more; What belongs to you, do not let go; what has already been lost, keep as a memory. Some past events can be faintly imprinted in the heart; some forgotten things can drift away in the wind.
