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Whispers of Remembrance |
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The western wind rises, breaking through the eastern breeze, as its howl
cuts through the vast sky, drifting amidst the vicissitudes. The boundless
yearning within my heart roars loudly, stirring up the distant rivers, and
stirring up the crimson dusk on the horizon.
My distant longing has nowhere to vent, recounting the desolation of this
season. It can only let the flourishing chrysanthemums bloom recklessly, and
then let the petals peel off the walls in the desolate years of withering
grass, suppressing the turmoil in my heart, suppressing the blooming snow
lotus. Let the yellowed smile flow through my fingertips, then crawl upon my
heart, and hysterically shout out in the barren fields. Beautiful grains of
sand in the wind, where are you today?
My distant longing has nowhere to converge. The threads of sorrow are
intertwined, uncuttable and untangled. Where exactly is the way home? The
wordless looking back is destined to be guarded for a lifetime. Why does the
lonely soul again enter the realm of dreams? Why is the following day filled
with tearful commotion? The vast sea is incapable of containing the
bitterness that stung you, it was not my intention. I want to make amends
for the past, but the morning light and wind have dried the final trace of
sorrow, and the black ink has already dyed peacefulness. The fallen willow
still sways with grace, but everything has changed. Let my longing, which
has nowhere to vent, drift with the homeless flowing water, finding solace
in the four corners of the world.
My distant longing has nowhere to bid farewell, evaporating wildly in this
desolate city, stirring up the scarred souls, lonely and approaching death,
not knowing if the next season will bring rebirth or reincarnation. Infinite
longing entangles within my heart, shattered like the entwined past, chaotic
and incapable of looking back. I have experienced the comfort of revisiting
old places, but I know the broken zither strings cannot produce the answer I
seek. Yet, I cannot bear to blame the lonely full moon. The grains of sand
in the wind, the setting sun of dusk, they remind me of you once again.
My distant longing has nowhere to call home, gradually getting used to being
a passing traveler in the mortal realm. Chance encounters often lead to
confusion. I wish to witness a world fragrant as a petal, but my longing can
only wander aimlessly. Sometimes, like a lost child, I stare at the
suspended reflection, unsure of what to do, thinking about the direction of
tomorrow's sunrise. Perhaps the horizon is my starting point. Youth under
the blossoming flowers is too fleeting, easily disappearing without a trace.
But at least I have walked a journey in this world and still wish to bring
an end to that chrysanthemum season. However, I discover that this year, the
master of the flowers is no longer me, for my longing for you no longer
knows where it drifts.
The western wind rises, breaking through the eastern breeze. When will my
distant longing find its way home? Time remains silent by the side, while
loneliness strikes with an unmeasured touch. The drifting duckweed still
seeks its path back home, but the flowing water ahead has long ceased. Only
then do I realize it is never too late for anything. So it turns out
carefree travelers need not return, broken kites have no attachments, and
withering chrysanthemums require no sympathy. And my distant longing will
forever have no end. |
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Answer |
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Whispers of Remembrance is a poetic expression of profound yearning and
longing for a lost love. The author paints a vivid picture of the winds, the
withered flowers, and the desolate landscapes that mirror the inner turmoil.
The relentless longing finds no outlet, causing the narrator's soul to
wander aimlessly in a world that feels devoid of solace. The passage
reflects on the transient nature of life, the weight of nostalgia, and the
inability to find closure. Despite the passage of time, the longing remains
eternal, echoing the unfulfilled desires and the ache of a heart that can
never find its true home. |
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