Touching the fleeting years

 　　【Memories of the Past】

　　On many evenings, I like to stand on the horizon and watch the twilight lengthen my shadow and the sunset paint the small town in warm colors. However, when the evening wind blows, I still can't help but think of some outdated stories...

　　(1) At that time, the mountains and rivers were quiet and simple. In the afternoon sun, light butterflies were often chased by the dog in the yard, and a girl smiled brightly under the low wall of my childhood.

　　(2) At that time, the morning birds sang and the years were peaceful. In the afterglow of the evening, running figures were active on the playground, and a boy shot a basketball with a bright smile under the fence of youth.

　　(3) In the pure campus of morning dew, butterflies secretly perched on the swings by the playground. The golden years, the gentle boy, the immature and thin letter, the eastward flow of summer, a past called fireworks.

　　(4) The fireworks of the music festival illuminated the loneliness of many people. The deafening universe could not contain a word of tenderness. If we could do it all over again, would we stay by each other's side, never running away?

　　Sitting under the lamplight, I gently open the bookcase, flipping through those letters I couldn't bear to throw away, suddenly longing to recapture that feeling of the past. However, as I read, my emotions surge, my heart aches, and my eyes well up with tears. I suddenly realize with sorrow that I can't go back to yesterday, nor can I restore a happiness that has expired. The yellowed letters have also faded the colorful stories of yesteryear. It turns out that the brilliance that burst forth amidst the snow and wind is nothing but the desolation of youth fading away. None of us can escape the judgment of time. It's not that we are too complicated, but that the winds of time are too merciless.

　　Time slips through our fingers, time has thinned, and the butterflies on the swings by the playground have flown away. I grind a pool of ink, wanting to paint your radiant smile under the sun back then; I cut a piece of time, wanting to carve the promises you made back then. But, with the passing years, what has faded is not only the mountains and rivers, but also those promised forever. Now, when the wind rises, longing still lingers; when the flowers fall, sorrow still surges; when the rain falls, memories still haunt me. Looking back, you are no longer there.

　　In the silent passage of time, those days of pear blossoms like snow, innocent and carefree, have vanished. Stepping into the bustling world, amidst the throngs of people, I can no longer find familiar figures. Only now do I understand the sorrow of fleeting beauty and easily separated relationships. Only after hearing, seeing, and experiencing it all do I realize that the cold moon and falling willow petals are but fleeting moments of beauty on a journey. I long to know if there is an afterlife. If there is, what kind of encounters will we have with those we missed and those we met in those innocent years? And if we do meet again, what will the ending be?

　　I thought that by guarding a city, I was guarding a memory; I thought that by guarding a memory, I was guarding a lost love; I thought that by guarding a lost affection, I was guarding someone who never returned. However, flowers bloom and wither, tides rise and fall, and on the road back, I still cannot see that familiar figure. Only I stand in the passage of time like a tree, my lush branches pointing towards the direction you came from. Spring goes and autumn comes, the gentle spring breeze blows across the Loulan frontier, the rustling autumn wind turns the maple leaves by the bridge red, and my thin body has aged considerably in the wind. And all this, you who have gone far away, do you know? Riding a horse, I traversed thousands of mountains and crossed countless rivers, at a familiar place, watching the setting sun. Where has the person who promised to watch the gentle flow of water with me gone now?

　　【Warmth for a Lifetime】

　　The sun sways gently, and my mood also comes out to bask in the sun. I casually pick up a few strings of words, piece together a few sentences, and place them on the bluestone slab. The most beautiful feeling in life is: I like you, and coincidentally, you like me too. The best understanding is: I say a sentence, and you so naturally respond with the next sentence. The most beautiful distance is: I am not close, and you are not far. On a rainy day, I'm watching the rain from here, and coincidentally, you're listening to it from there. I idly jot down a few scattered words, swaying in the sunlight. I'm doing well; how about you?

　　In this world, perhaps you're loving someone, while another person, in another capacity, is waiting for you with a kind of unwavering devotion you don't know. They silently watch your joy, understand your sorrow, but never overstep their bounds. They are like a rose, never seeing the light, yet still joyfully swaying in their blooming season.

　　In the world of love, sweet words may be false, but the longing from the heart is real; vows of eternal love may be false, but the silent, enduring companionship is real; happiness may be false, but the lingering pain in the heart is real; hoping for their happiness may be false, but the indescribable bitterness upon seeing them happy is real. However, that initial innocence will eventually transform into maturity and composure through the trials of life. That pure heart will ultimately be bleached by time into a weathered appearance. Later, those simple smiles, subtle happiness, and unrestrained embraces become sealed memories, and the path we walk behind us is called growth!

　　You see, the tide rises and then recedes, still flowing in the same direction and shape as before. But some things, once bent over, are difficult to restore to their original state—like love. Perhaps, many times, we expect too much, and therefore experience too much disappointment. Because we understand, we no longer react hysterically, gradually becoming quiet and peaceful. Over time, our bodies unconsciously develop an antibody called cautiousness. The best love

　　can withstand the test of time and distance; it can be passionate and intense in its prime, and it can also return to tranquility when the splendor fades. When two people are together, they often don't understand the preciousness of love, thinking it's just ordinary life—sweet, but also mundane. However, once they separate, the feeling of a piece of their heart being torn away makes them realize that ordinary life is the best gift of love, because it's in the ordinary that love reveals its true and enduring nature. I once thought that only the feeling of heart-wrenching pain proved love had ever existed. Later, I began to understand that the sweet feeling is the trace of love, and the painful feeling is merely due to unwillingness to let go. If I could, in this life, I would be a gentle woman, no longer begging for love, nor a flower in the dust. I only wish to encounter an ordinary, simple love in the long corridor of time. If this wish could be a little more extravagant, I would want it to be complete.

　　【Fleeting Years】

　　In this season of flowing clouds and clear autumn waters, forgive me for not being able to be as radiant as the sun, as radiant as a flower; forgive me for being so silent, so aloof. I just want to lean against the window, watch the falling petals and rain, and read a warm poem. Only then can I stop feeling frustrated and distressed by my powerless situation. Actually, I just don't want to be visited or comforted. I just want to be alone, quietly, whether lost in thought, silent, or simply listless.

　　There are times when I become incredibly indifferent, not wanting to talk to anyone, text anyone, or contact anyone. I just bury myself in my own world, staring blankly at the sunlight outside the window. Then, looking at the warm light, I silently ask myself: Why have I made life so terrible, like a stagnant pool?

　　I am a cold-hearted woman, yet I often try to grasp the warmth in life. Only with friends I care about can I be described as sentimental. I am a woman who is prone to anxiety and loss, yet I often try to hold onto a stable happiness. Only with meaningless gains and losses can I be described as indifferent. The real me is easy to approach, and just as easy to leave. That's just who I am; I can't hide my true feelings, nor can I conceal my sadness. If you're willing to hurt me, then hurt me.

　　In life, I'm a simple woman. I cry when I'm sad and laugh when I'm happy. I don't hide anything, and I don't know how to pretend. In relationships, I've become increasingly indifferent. Gradually, I rarely initiate messages, texts, or phone calls. It's not that I don't care, but that I don't want to talk, or that I don't miss you; I've just gotten used to silence. If one day I suddenly call you, someone I haven't contacted in a long time, please don't refuse to answer, don't transfer the call, and don't make excuses. I just want to ask how you've been, how you're doing. Although these are simple greetings, they represent my long-accumulated longing.

　　This simple time always unexpectedly bestows too much upon us, and many things cannot go as we wish. However, I firmly believe that every trauma is a form of maturity, and that the compassionate years will eventually heal all wounds. I also believe that only by bravely treading through the thorns along life's journey can we see the serene mountains and clear waters, and achieve a state of tranquility and peace.

　　Be a quiet woman, finding a haven in the bustling world, savoring tea and reading, enduring loneliness and learning to be alone. Be an elegant woman, clad in simple clothes amidst the dust and grime, traversing crowds and years, undaunted by storms and separations. Learn to live each day with composure, letting seasons change, flowers fade, faces grow old, teeth fall, yet still growing old with a gentle heart…

　　The wind stills, the incense burns, eyes gleam, standing in the old alley of reincarnation, I don't speak of this bright season, nor listen to the gentle breeze whispering in my ears; I simply think of childhood friends, recalling the beginning of an old story. Yet, only when I haven't remembered for a long time do I realize how merciless the passage of time is, how quickly it has disrupted the years, changed faces, and scattered the old.

　　A warm-hearted woman can move not only others but also herself. However, in the complexities of life, everyone has their own joys and sorrows, warmth and coldness. You are ultimately a vulnerable woman, with your own troubles and worries. You also need understanding, release, and space. So, when you're tired, I allow you to withdraw from conflict, but you must be able to maintain your integrity. I also allow you to temporarily disappear, but only when spring arrives and flowers bloom. I believe that only when the heart is at peace can one return to tranquility. Only by letting go of burdens and listening to the wind gently can one walk more easily.

　　We only live once, so we shouldn't live too hard. We should live a vibrant, carefree, and joyful life! Friendship is like wine, growing stronger with age; love is like a flower, becoming more beautiful with care. Whether it's friendship or love, cherish it while you have it, and when you lose it, be yourself again. Don't wallow in sadness or dwell on the past. A person needs a new beginning. Don't let sadness erode the seeds of happiness, and don't let the past chain you to the hall of sorrow. Don't say who you love most. Life is long, and tomorrow is unpredictable. Parting amicably is best; everyone has their own struggles. Living isn't about reminiscing about yesterday, but about waiting for hope.

　　Girl, your tears are precious, so don't cry easily. Your self-cultivation is important, so don't use foul language. Your youth is short, so don't be despondent. Girl, please learn to be alone; even in a quiet corner, you can find joy. Girl, please learn to be strong; even in a season of hidden wounds, you can hold your head high and face the sun. Girl, please learn to smile; give yourself a smile now and then. It not only regulates your mood but is also a way of treating yourself kindly. Girl, although many times no one understands your sadness, still believe in the existence of warmth, beauty, and trust. And please remember, only by learning to cherish yourself can you truly love others and live well.

　　Eyes become clearer because of tears, the heart becomes more transparent because of pain, and life becomes richer because of experience. Having cried, suffered, and experienced, I should give myself a bright future. I should understand that we come into this world not to live for family, not for friends, and not for the opinions of the world; we live only for ourselves. Therefore, we should live happily, not wallow in sorrow. I only wish to be a serene little flower in this life, daring to accept the cleansing of wind and rain, daring to bear the destiny of wandering, and standing eternally with the most beautiful and strongest smile, facing the wind as time passes.

　　Thank you to those who looked down on me, for teaching me not to bow my head; thank you to those who mocked me, for teaching me not to care; thank you to those who brought me sunshine, for helping me gradually find a smile again from sorrow; thank you to those who brought me trouble, for helping me gradually learn tranquility from annoyance; thank you to those who brought me happiness, for letting me feel the meaning of joy in the ordinary; thank you to those who brought me loss, for letting me feel the bitterness in melancholy. In this mortal world, even saints find it difficult to be without flaws, let alone us mere mortals. While we may not be 100% flawed, we are also incapable of 100% perfection. However, the sea has its vastness, the mountains its depth, and even the smallest blade of grass possesses an upward spirit. Therefore, we, unique individuals, must learn to treat ourselves kindly, affirm ourselves, and strive for continuous improvement.

　　Lying in bed, I reflected on what I had accomplished this summer. The results are as follows: I overcame the torment of illness, submitted an article to a magazine, read several good novels, and managed to cook hot meals for my family during the busy farming season. However, there was much more helplessness and idleness. If possible, and if conditions allowed, I would love to do something uplifting, such as writing a novel, taking a spontaneous trip, or meeting you all and participating in a poetry competition like this one.