But in modern people's life, it is not in the green fields of villages, but in reinforced concrete. The essence of commodity economy has been deeply injected into the hearts of modern people, crowding out people's leisure.
Digital life is neither passionate nor poetic. People's heartstrings only care about vanity and fame and fortune. Confused, submerged in daily necessities.
From the library, I dug up a long-forgotten collection of poems, the content of which is nothing more than a praise of singing and dancing life and a description of loneliness, but few people think about philosophy. I don't know whether it is the degradation of human knowledge-seeking ability or spiritual understanding.
Most of the fallen leaves under the tree were swept into the trash can by the ruthless broom, and there is no better home than this-in this city's land.
I wonder how many flowers fall in my dream.
How many people are no longer attached to fallen leaves, and there are no more poems in the passionate autumn. The poet's eyes have long dried up.
There is a small fish where the leaves fall.
The leaves have fallen, leaving only a wisp of fragrance.
People say that success is not achieved overnight, but it can be missed.
Legend has it that there is a cliff where the flowers fall. Cliff, desperate and steep people look at the end of the world, but they can only stop at the cliff and sigh, but the beautiful scenery can't transition on the shore. Maybe the air has no buoyancy, and the wait continues.
People say: the lives of fish and birds do not intersect. However, the beautiful word "sea antenna" is still circulating.
Magnificent lines outline infinite dreams, with a kind of expectation and some helplessness. Storms belong to the sky, while waves, tsunamis and tides belong to the ocean. They are far apart, but they are far apart.
The teacher once said that parallel lines have no intersection. Is it sentimental? In fact, the intersecting straight lines parted ways after meeting at that moment, and became silent from then on. Although their bodies have been in contact, now they are lonely but depressed. The advantage of parallel lines is to accompany you all the way, whether sad or calm.
It's sunny occasionally. The sea is a fish in the sun. So, there are birds flying in the air. Fish and birds don't meet, only waves and tides. This is a sensational moment, but calm has replaced everything. There is no reason to meet at this time. Birds can watch the graceful dance of fish, and fish can look up at the vigorous body of birds. That's enough. Eye contact may be the best confession.
Another day, the birds are still flying. But I caught a glimpse of a big fish chasing a small fish. At this moment, another flash of lightning fell from the sky. Two murderous looks burst into water at the junction of Haitian.
The fish approached the bird and flew away.
Birds are walking in the clouds. The fish is in its mouth, too.
Finally, the sea was calm and lifeless.
The waves disappeared, the singing of the sea stopped at this moment and the tears dried up.
The water in the fish was finally swallowed up by the sun. The bird has a piece of dried fish in its mouth. Birds are flying meat.
Life is still lonely, and so is sadness.
The infinite power of the night makes everyone submit to it and sleep in its arms, but some people don't, so they stay up late. They use this time to write, draw, think and work ... to continue their work during the day. So they trampled on the night and wasted the day. But people remain silent and keep repeating the same mistakes.
Nobody knows why, but nobody talks.
Perhaps silence is the best life.