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The Cuckoo's Call and the Song of Life |
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Perhaps most people think that the cuckoo's call is joyful and pleasant, but
who knows that in early spring, the first cry of the cuckoo is so tragic and
desolate.
I sat with my knees hugged, and in that moment my heart understood why the
cuckoo's call is so mournful, so heartrending. Because life is like a song,
a fiery song, a song of life.
While youth has not yet faded, those plain yet lively lyrics have taken root
in my heart long ago. What grew was an unremarkable gardenia tree, blooming
with ordinary white flowers, but emanating the most enchanting youthfulness.
The tears shed at this moment are a lament for the passing of youth.
Tears uncontrollably flowed, tracing my face, slowly dripping. They were
incredibly poignant, blooming with the most captivating beauty, leaving a
deeply moving sensation.
As if it were yesterday, I still greeted the rising sun and the setting sun
with a smile, earnestly experiencing everything. But who understands? "Youth
without regrets" - these four characters were written on paper with a brush,
and suddenly I felt like crying. Is it youth? Or is it for myself?
Unknowingly, I began to feel lost, uncertain. Should I or shouldn't I say
"youth without regrets"? I don't regret my own youth, I reminded myself. I
cannot regret my own youth.
It was a blossoming of the heart, in the days of June. I kept recalling,
singing with all my heart, singing hysterically until nightfall, thinking
until my heart broke. I can never forget that mournful cry. It was life, it
was my endless yearning for youth, it was my undying hope for the future.
The setting sun was just right, and I sat by the window. For the first time,
I sat so close to the skylight. It turns out that the world seen this way is
wider. Leaning against the window, I wrote a short poem. The dreams of the
past were about climbing over tall walls, those youthful years with furrowed
brows. They were my unchanging beliefs. In the days without moonlight, I
still have yearning, yearning for the lost childhood, yearning for
everything lost, allowing the heart to bloom in the passage of time.
As the sun set, I wrote on paper. The evening breeze carried the sunset,
while my state of mind drifted.
I cried, I laughed, I sang. My tears quietly slid across the night sky, like
dewdrops on a green leaf, like a period of youthful years with furrowed
brows.
I softly recited a short poem and slowly slid my fingers on the guitar. The
sunlight shone between my fingertips. It was the song of the heart, a voice
that cannot be forgotten.
Fingers danced on the guitar, one note following another. The heart
gradually grew quiet, suddenly finding solace, suddenly understanding: life
does not believe in tears, failure does not mean the demise of success. Let
the heart bloom in the passage of time, let the heart experience everything
in life, including desolation and pain, because there is no eternal
misfortune in life that can make us suffer indefinitely. I laughed happily,
for no reason. |
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Answer |
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The cry of the cuckoo in early spring is often seen as joyful, but few
realize its initial call is filled with sadness. Sitting in contemplation,
the narrator grasps the poignant nature of the cuckoo's call, symbolizing
the song of life and its bittersweet moments. Memories of youth and its
fleeting nature bring tears, yet they also inspire a sense of longing and
hope. As the sun sets, the narrator finds solace by the window, writing a
poem about their dreams and unwavering beliefs. Through tears, laughter, and
song, they come to understand that life doesn't believe in tears, and
failure doesn't equate to the death of success. They embrace the idea of
allowing their heart to bloom, experiencing both the sorrow and joy that
life offers. |
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