"It is the youth who likes to talk about pain, but the old Beethoven, who has tasted so much, sang a ode to joy."
- the eminent
I often think, what is hidden in zhang dai's back, is the first half of life prosperous and beautiful and then with the remnants of a large dream life? Or is it the last of the Ming dynasty?
Which one is he in the middle of the lake to watch the snow float to light? And which of his fresh clothes angry horse to frighten chang 'an a land of flowers? It is that good fine female and male servants, good pear garden advocate is him, the refuge after the mountain folding ding disease harp is also him. He is as changeable as the morning wind and morning dew, and as lonely as the one that cannot be changed, he is still silent, and symbiosis with disillusionment like the book night boat, which is lying quietly in the tianyi pavilion.
When I greeted him with the west lake of the same color of water and sky, whether I could get a response, just like tao an's dream and the west lake dream look far away, but never forget.
"Not to learn books, not to learn sword, not to learn verse, not to learn articles, not to learn Buddha, not to learn the garden of agriculture, let the world call it as the black sheep, for waste, for the stubborn people, for the dull scholar, for the sleepy han, for the dead old spirit has also been.
The mournful sigh and trembling hands slowly touch the mossy tombstone, and the mist seems to return to the life in the west lake.
"No, why do you put yourself down? You know how many people will cross the rough waves by night boat on the sea of empty hearts. I am a young man with new words and worries. I grew up with green melodramatic and inexplicable joys and sorrows, but you are the light of my life, which falls on your face and guides my direction." I shouted, across the gap in history.
"Half my life has been a dream." He is blue.
"No, your life is real, it is you who let time flow through my youth with intimacy forever, leading me to grow up, to the mountains of life, measuring the peak wall high cliff, exploring the mysteries of life； Is that you tell me the vast mountains and rivers, the world lovely； It was you who made me believe that knowledge can really tear the shadow from my heart... "
"The vicissitudes of the Ming dynasty did not defeat you, the poverty of half your life did not make you submit, the physical pain did not break your literary pride. I will not yield to the storm of fate. I will go on with the courage to guard the Great Wall, tonight and every night until the dawn."
"So good, if the spirit of the commitment, then not this life." The last words, his shadow after all dissipated. .
But the spirit is forever, in every page I turn over, in every step of my journey.
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