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In the vast world, humans persistently live with strength. They
create chapters of resounding triumphs in pursuit of a better tomorrow. But
behind all the splendor lies the nurturing realm that sustains us—the great
nature.
Nature, you bestowed upon this planet its first life. You fostered the first
language of humanity. One dare not fathom the scenario without you.
You have displayed anger, causing mountains to crumble and the seas to churn.
You possess the power to destroy everything. You have smiled, bringing forth the
warmth of spring, enveloped in a canopy of green. You possess the breadth to
encompass all.
Some seek to understand you, to unravel the secrets of the deep sea, to pursue
the wonders of green. Others fear you because they fail to comprehend your
allure.
Yet, I believe: you are merely a piece of paper! A sheet filled with words. As I
finish reading the final word on the first sheet, a second sheet appears,
captivating me, compelling me to impatiently finish it. In an instant, a third
sheet emerges... I read ceaselessly, without pause. What was once a single sheet
gradually transforms into a book, growing thicker and thicker...
I cannot finish reading it, nor can I fully grasp its meaning. With a sense of
unfulfilled emotions, I close it and reflect: In that vast expanse of nature, I
am merely a speck in the ocean. I hand it over to the farmers, who understand
the essence of "spring blossoms and autumn harvest" in the melody of the
twenty-four solar terms. The farmers pass it on to the workers, who comprehend
the philosophy of "time is productivity" in the rhythm of the changing seasons.
The workers give it to the poets, who understand the warmth and familial love of
the human world in the smiles of clouds and mist... But no one can truly
comprehend nature! It is not due to the laziness of humankind but rather because
no one possesses a heart as broad as nature's.
Nature, you emit your personal radiance in a unique manner, and your light
shines across the world. I long to portray your countenance with the pen in my
hand, but I cannot. I can only imagine your appearance in my mind. Give me some
time to open that thick book again, but I cannot. I cannot decipher the mood
within your pages. No one can make you change! Yet, you can change us. We are
but mere words in this book, occupying an infinitesimal space. In that space, we
create brilliance and alter tomorrow.
We cannot see ourselves clearly, much less understand your true essence—nature,
that enduring expanse. |
