人生,若只如初见

作者:敖梦南人气:2255更新:2021-05-05 10:00:02

    持一念深深的感动,记忆曾经的美丽 ,记忆曾经的记忆……漂流已久的心 。

    现在,只想寻一处心的栖居,找一个安然静坐的地方;用一盏清茶的茗香 ,微醺了过往匀淡了惆怅。

    春天来了 ,又来了。终于,我在看了十九年花开花落后,再也看不到家乡的花了 。

    当蔷薇的青果开始泛红 ,那些桃树 、梅树、樱花树上,我无从找寻美丽花儿的影子,唯有贮藏记忆的芳香告诉我 ,春天,曾经那样的真实 。以前总觉得年年看花,年年如此 ,当这些风景在的时候,觉得平淡,没有新鲜可寻 ,现在看来,却是思念了,却无能为力了。

    无法言说相遇、无法继续的延续 、唯有默默说着离别 ,淡淡地品味的苦楚……就如回忆。回忆再美 ,也只是回忆,永远都只是在脑海里,静静地存着 。我聆听着陈旧的老歌 ,回想着往昔若干岁月,有低迷,有失落 ,更多的是一份怀念沉淀。

    流年不断的变迁,风景在四季里徘徊流转,转眼春天过半站在城市的边缘。

    我兜兜转转 ,找寻一个唯一终点,可地球终究是圆的,无论我如何的兜转 ,却也总是在这个圆圈里打转 。于是我明白了简单的幸福,不轻易的发怒,不轻易的悲观 ,更加不轻易的卑微。有泪时 ,睁大眼睛遥望着天空的蔚蓝,不让泪流下来;开心时,微微的一笑 ,不夸张,不轻浮;有感时,用随身携带的笔纸 ,记下一路上的点点滴滴。往昔不带,岁月流长 。伤痛被切割的斑斑点点,我用文字记录下的泛白岁月 ,在迷离流连的往返间,最终也只是剩在流年的杯碗里被倒掉罢了。

    弱水三千,谁举杯孤独自饮 ,繁华落尽,谁又为谁满面如黄花?红尘陌上,谁悠然抚琴轻吟 ,琉璃瓦碎 ,谁又为谁易老了青春?是否会有这样一种情况,在明明的不经意间你会突然得变的沉默,突然的会去回想一些明明已经忘记 ,不在意了很久的事,然后你会一直哭一直哭,可是哭完以后谁也不明白你为什么哭 ,其实放不下的不是人,而是那些事,那些只属于你自己的回忆。俯首 ,沧桑,友情,岁月 。是谁在独自呻吟今生的淋漓?轮回 ,信仰,豆蔻,年华。是谁在暗叹深思前世的琉璃?

    花海 ,是美 ,却无奈。回忆在脑海里留下了道道微痕 。

    一遍一遍拂挲心房里的跳动的英魂 。花季卷着一颗种子奔腾在天地间。随意洒落,洒落在开遍悲伤的大地上,大地上盖满了可有可无的影子。她静静的等待雨后的天空 ,等待是那是一抹太阳下的彩虹!虽然是一霎的满足,但是却微笑着等待,微笑着回忆?有些人并不明白懂得享受孤独是一种可贵品质 ,他们无法安静,拒绝孤单,总是拉帮结派的娱乐来证明自己的存在 ,缺乏安静的观察与思考,他们不相信孤独的力量,内心无法平静 ,因此在满目创痍的繁华背后,找不到自己 。

    突然想起著名作家林微因说过的一句话:红尘陌上,独自行走 ,绿萝拂过衣襟 ,青云打湿诺言。山和水可以两两相忘,日与月可以毫无瓜葛。那时候,只一个人的浮世清欢 ,一个人的细水长流 。

    感念生命里的所有精彩,感念爱情里的所有美好。每个人都有一见倾心的记忆,距离可以产生美 ,得不到的往往都是最好的,我们在得到的时候,都会怀念过去 ,怀念那个曾经的自我,去迷恋那段遗失的自我和记忆,往往不会珍惜现在拥有的幸福和快乐 ,哪怕手中紧握的幸福,都不曾记得去珍惜,总在嘘叹过去 ,总在忧伤过去 ,舔合着过去的那段伤!让记忆停留在那份美好的时间里,少份纠葛,多份豁达。

    如果 ,什么都人生如若初见,或许生活也缺了份韵味 。人生的道上,不许我们有太多的假设 ,记住所有的温馨,隐藏所有的阴霾,这或许就是一种快乐。末了 ,真的成了林徽因口中的“只一个人的浮世清欢,一个人的细水长流。”生命永远像童年一样简单,是浅薄!生命陷入世俗的纷争 ,是庸俗!生命从纷争中得到解放,是觉悟!

    人说,人生若只如初见 ,岂存在遗憾与忧愁 。

    但 ,人生若未曾遇见,岂存在念想与相思。事也是,人也事。只若初见?

    作者:冰迹诗

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英译版本:

Hold a deep touch, memories have been beautiful, memories have been memories ... drifting for a long time.

Now, I just want to find a place to live, find a place where it is quiet; use a clear tea, slightly, it is very smooth.

Spring is coming, come again. Finally, I was looking behind the flowering of the 19th year, and I couldn't see the flower of my hometown.

When the green of roses began to red, those peach, plum, cherry tree, I have no shadow of beautiful flowers, only the aroma of the stored memory tells me that spring, once the same truth. I always felt that I was looking for a year, I have been in this year. When these scenery are in the time, I feel dull, there is no fresh and can be found, but it seems that I miss it, but I can't do it.

Unable to meet, can continue, only silently say that parting, faintly tasteful ... Just a memories. Recalling beauty, but only memories, always just in my mind, quietly stock. I listened to the old old songs, recalling a few years, downturn, lost, more is a distinctive precipitate.

The continuous changes in the year, the scenery is swaying in the four seasons, and the spring is over halfway in the edge of the city.

I turned to find a single end, and the earth is round, no matter how I go, it is always in this circle. So I understood simple happiness, not easy to cross, not easier pessimism, more irrelevant. When there is tears, the blue eyes look at the sky of the sky, don't let tears; when you are happy, slight smile, no exaggeration, not light floating; when you feel, use the pen paper carrying with you, record the bits of the way drop. I don't have, the years have flowers. The painful spots of the pain were cut, I used the white years in the text, and the round-trip between the blur of the blur, and finally was only in the cup bowl of the year.

Weak water three thousand, who is lonely drink, bustling, who is it as well? Red dust, who is leisurely Fuqin, glazed, who is easy to get old? Whether there is such a situation, you will suddenly change the silence in clear, suddenly I will think about it, I have forgotten, I don't care for a long time, then you will always cry, cry,But when you cry, no one understand why you cry, it's not a person, but those things, those who are only your own memories. Charring, vicissitudes, friendship, years. Who is alone? Return, faith, cardamom, annual. Who is in a glazed glass?
Huahai, is beautiful, but helpless. Recalling the road micro marks in the mind.

The soul of the beating in the heart in the heart. The season is rolled with a seed. Pentium in the world. As soon as I sprinkled, I was sprinkled on the ground, and the earth was full of shadows. She quietly waiting for the sky after the rain, waiting is that is a rainbow under the sun! Although it is a satisfaction, but smile and wait, smile and memories? Some people don't understand how to enjoy the loneliness is a valuable quality. They can't queen, refuse to be alone, and always pull the entertainment to give the gangs, lack of quiet observation and thinking, they don't believe in lonely, inner heart I can't calm, so I can't find myself behind a full-time bustling.

Suddenly remembered a famous writer Lin Mini said: Red Dustmount, walking alone, green Luo hurts, Qingyun wets the promise. The mountains and water can forget two or two, and the day can be omituated. At that time, only a person's floating clear, a person's fine water.

I feel all the wonderful things in my life, I feel all the beautiful in love. Everyone has a good memory, the distance can be beautiful, and it is often the best. When we get it, you will miss the past, miss the self, obsessed with the loss of self and memories. It is often not cherishing the happiness and happiness that now, even if the happiness in his hands, never remember to cherish, always smashing, always sad, in the past, the injury in the past! Let the memory stay in the wonderful time, a small entanglement, multiple open-minded.
If, if every life is in the first time, maybe life lacks a charm. Board of life, don't allow us to have too many assumptions, remember all the warmth, hidden all the haze, this may be a kind of happiness. At the end, I really became the "only one of the people's floating world", a person's thin water. "Life is always as simple as childhood, is shallow! Life is falling into a secular dispute, it is vulgar! LifeIt is a consciousness!

If people say that if they are only as sujoral, there is a pity and sorrow.
However, if life has not met, there is a thought and acacia. It is also, people are things. Just see it first?

Author: Ice trace poem

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