Some Words for Xiao Wang
Eighteen years have passed in a flash, time flows like water, washing away the past and revealing a new future.
The brilliant stars and the blazing sun are celebrating your birthday, and of course, so am I. Those throbbing, flickering memories are the jade that has been uniquely yours for eighteen years. You have always shone in everyone's eyes, even in those invisible corners, you radiate brilliance. I am lucky to have met such a you.
I am fortunate to have met such a you, even if I had written a thousand possibilities of meeting and made my pen bloom, I would never have anticipated such an ordinary yet stunning encounter. Lucky to be your love, even if I have tried countless times to touch your cheek only to give up, there will still be a passion that a million embraces would not suffice.
How I wish such passion could always be by my side, just like your favorite words that I love: "The days ahead are still long."
Eighteen years old is significant for everyone; its value cannot be measured by any object. And the art of paper and ink comes closest to the value of eighteen. Those precious or trivial memories flow between the lines; when you turn the pages someday in the future, you may recall the beauty of the past, present, and future.
Perhaps, the young man under the blazing sun will once again walk that quiet ancient path traveled many times, but meet his true love for the first time. Of course, it is not me, but is it not me?
Your laughter ignites the wind around;
In the light of spring, ethereal and bright, you twirl.
You are the misty clouds in early April,
The soft breeze at dusk,
Stars twinkle carelessly, fine raindrops sprinkle on the flowers.
You are the lightness, the grace, Wearing the crown of blooming flowers, You are innocence, solemnity, you are the full moon every night.
Like the yellow after snow melts, you are;
Like the fresh green of new sprouts, you are;
Tender and joyful, waterlight ripples the white lotus of your dreams.
You are the blossoms on tree after tree,
The swallows murmuring between the beams, — you are love, you are warmth,
You are hope, you are the April of this world!
To the one I love
August 17, 2023