beating, into the foaming sea

If the young heart should be floating in the wind in the square of colorful flags, I will throw my one, beating, into the foaming sea, rolled by the whirlpool to the deep sea, guarding the lantern fish by the faint light of the water pattern.

If the fingers of the moment were to play sentimental music, I would rather put my hands, pen in hand, in a sink of dish soap and oil, touching the rotting leaves and waiting for a shiny China dish to surface.

I walk the night of the city and the dawn of the countryside, I light the lampstand in the West and the candle incense in the Far East, I inspire others to move forward with courage and faith, and finally stand under the plane tree and in front of the bus stop to make a decision.

If one day the light air fills countless corners of the atmosphere, I will tie an anchor called responsibility and sink into a dark and cool well.

Let the red sun shine high, and the evening rain still knock at my window, and if the woods of the mountains are reduced to the dancing ground of the world by you, I will still guard the little menthol on the table.

Even so, I will run on the noisy land, with silent language and silent songs, or bloodless wounds and tears of water shortage, praying for the sky, mountains and rivers, countless people.

Please use your lips to kiss the dawn of the sky, please use the soles of your feet to let the grass blades Pierce them, please use your ears to listen to the mother's Xu, please use your hands to write the words of the bottom of your heart in the field.

It is a glorious tomorrow, the bright moonlight shines on today's books and the dead body, the geese fall in line, forgetting the direction of the south, but the autumn wind carries sand wrapped in dust, awakening memory and faith.

My understanding of the word "give up" is that when something is frustrated, you don't do it - this is called giving up. But giving up in the face of frustration is much more difficult than giving up, and I did it.

Remember in my first grade, I can not ride, so my mother said: "are so big, can not ride until grow up, how to do?"

It's okay. I can't ride. It's okay. Everyone has to ride. No, it's a bad thing to grow up.

I was right, so I said, "I'll do it."

At first, I feel that riding is a very easy thing, so I started to pedal on the seat, but, pedal a few steps fell down, after many attempts, or unsuccessful, I think: "anyway, also can't learn, don't learn!" I went to the house, my mother saw me and said: "Learned, not hard to learn is not to learn."

"I'd rather not. I could never learn."

"I grumbled. She looked me in the eye and said, "Oh, you're wrong. If you fail twice, you will not do it, and you will not be able to do anything. People's ideas are different, the spirit of doing things is different, or play for a while to practice it!"

Mom said, "If everyone did what you do, there would be no success." Didn't Edison succeed in failure?" Mother said no more, just when someone came to chat, she went to the living room to chat with people.

After my mother left, I carefully recalled her words: It is true that nothing is difficult in the world, if you have a heart. I can't give up, I want to overcome difficulties, be a willing to climb. I pushed the bike again, came to the west of the village roadside, continue to practice cycling.

I had a fall...

Another fall...

As the sun was about to go down, I was limping along on my bicycle toward home.

This time, I have no regrets