Chapter 728: Spring's Ode

Spring's Ode

March 7: Spring's Ode

Early morning, the birds again sang the world in the small Wind.

Those flowers that bloom at night, they are waiting, waiting, dedicating their beauty to those who labor under the sun.

Who says life must go from abundance to withering?

Life should be a continual process of transformation, a flower that constantly blooms. At every stage, she has her own theme, her own beauty.

Why hide life's beauty so deeply?

On the field full of wildflowers, the birds sing their own ode, the ode of spring, the ode of life; amid the birds' singing, some flowers bloom, while some wither in the birds' song. But whether blooming or withering, they are forms of life, the beauty of life.

Spring, whether dawn or dusk, there are birds singing, there are fresh flowers blooming.

A Classic of Poetry person says —

「In the world

The way forward is the way home,

The way home also becomes the way forward……

In the birdsong of dawn, I also seemed to hear the sound of flowers opening. At this moment I also —

I forgot the first sentence,

I also don't know the last sentence……

But now I have understood once again __________

"The principle that trees bloom in spring, bear fruit in summer, do not expect praise in autumn, shed leaves and wither in winter, and do not fear blame" — Originally all this stems from the form and process of life.

He says: "Seeing through the three springs, peach red, willow green; duck green, goose yellow, lingering on the pond;" And he also says: "Spring plum blossoms burst into snow, how pure!"

... Spring, please stay... It is said... Fragrant grass at the world's end, the mist returns to the road... Spring resents and stays silent... Only diligence counts; the painted eaves' spider webs all day attract flying fluff... Do not dance, my lord... You do not see that jade bracelets and flying swallows all turn to dust... Do not rely on the perilous railing... The setting sun is... Misty willows... Last night the west wind withered the azure trees; I alone ascended the high tower, gazing to the end of the world's road... My belt grows looser, yet I have no regret; for her I waste away, weary and thin... Having searched for him a thousand times among the crowd, I suddenly turn, and there he stands in the dim lantern light... \