Chapter 737: Forever beautiful childlike heart

Forever beautiful childlike heart

March 16: Forever beautiful childlike heart

"In a small building, listening to spring rain all night; in a deep lane, selling apricot blossoms tomorrow morning," who would have thought this was written by an old man over sixty?: The poet, at this great age, still dabbles in flowers and grasses. I used to think that only young people could write about flowers and grasses.

Actually, as long as one has a childlike heart———"Little grass sprout, your steps may be small, but you possess the land beneath your feet." That little grass, in the poet's eyes, is forever green; because it possesses "the land beneath your feet," and more importantly, because the poet has a childlike heart.

Because, the flowers in the poet's heart are fragrant all seasons, the grass's forever beauty———"When the young flower opens its bud, it calls out: 'Dear world, please do not wither.'"

When the poet sees those tender flower buds blooming in spring, he generates endless associations———"Where does the source of that endless, frenzied revelry of throwing those flower petals upward come from?"

Actually, the flower's beauty and fragrance are entirely determined by human mindset."Spring's resentment, autumn's sorrow are all self‑caused; flower's face and moon's beauty, for whom are they lovely?" Nature is soundless, emotionless: flowers bloom and fall, the moon waxes and wanes—this is entirely a natural phenomenon.

But humans are different; they will smear the natural phenomena around them with emotional color. For example, upon seeing flowers bloom, they insist on seeking the source of that bloom—isn't that "self‑caused"? This self‑causedness determines human existence.

This state of existence is———"When the day's work is done, I am like a small boat dragged on the beach, quietly listening to the music of the evening tide dancing." A day's work has already made me very tired, tired as a small boat returning from a distant voyage at sea,

But this small boat is not stopping by the seaside to sleep; instead, it goes to the sea's song, listening to the music of the evening tide dancing. Like that old poet I just mentioned, upon hearing the wind and rain outside the window in early spring, he does not go to rest well, but unfolds the association of "deep lane, tomorrow morning selling apricot blossoms"—this person is truly wonderful. This "the poet's wind, emerging from the ocean and forest, seeks its own song."

This person, all want to live out their own individuality, their own characteristics, seeking their own song, and then singing this song to the world of their existence and life———

"My friend, time waits for no one! My heart prays for peace———

Days pass day by day, our lives

also will disappear as they pass with the bits and pieces of time,

When life passes away, like a bird flying across the sky

But that sky leaves no trace of the bird

But, what is important is not leaving a trace of the bird

What is important is to have flown across

Although, our this tiny life

Comes like wind, goes like rain

We still will be in the wind and rain

Singing the world, singing life, singing life, singing…………………\