[Short Passage] To Youth

Whisper a breath of gentle wind, quietly guarding serenity; lightly pluck a tune on the strings, recalling the passing years; the cold mist on the path explains the deep meaning of youth. Time flows, years seep sorrow, the person, the events, the past—through a thousand cycles, age with the drifting clouds. The full moon's brilliance may, perhaps, just be a floating cup of wine, commemorating youthful days, whether to go, to stay, or to look far into the distance... Time moves quickly, once passed it never looks back, and then we are taken unprepared. Late at night, with the unreachable confidant of the mortal world, tears fall uncontrollably, blurring the eyes. The pain of the past, we forget it all; the youthful us likes to calm our turbulent hearts. Rowing on the lake of youth, whether night or day, savor a fragrance, appreciate a feeling, with no regrets! Watching the light pierce through our youth, we finally see our own hearts. In fact, we are not mature enough. Our youth will eventually fade. I hope that for each of us, even if our looks wither, rowing westward, we will have no regrets!