Floral youth

Author: Xuan Zexin
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-01-01
Features: Youth is the most wonderful season of life, yet it is also so fleeting. When you tear away a page from the calendar, you can sense that a petal of youth has fallen. The season of blossoms and the season of rain—how beautiful a time of life, how cherished a period of innocence. Time rushes by, yet the flying flowers, falling leaves, gentle rain, and sunshine hidden deep in memory always move us. The heart seems to travel through a tunnel of time, the eyes searching along the way for traces of what once was, whether beautiful or sorrowful. The vows made under the pink crape myrtle trees, the wishes whispered as meteors the night sky, the tears shed in a moment of turning away amidst falling leaves—all are deeply etched in the heart alongside the rings of years, never to be forgotten.
In childhood, we always longed to grow up, but once grown, we realize we have been scarred. Growth is the gradual disappearance of hope and the gradual increase of hardship. The joy of growing up lies in our endless hopes, while the pain lies in realizing the world is no longer as we imagined. Gradually, we become stronger, smoother, and more worldly-wise, transforming from weaklings into strong ones in a slow, painful metamorphosis we neither want nor can avoid. When the heart becomes numb, looking back at the past often brings tears to our eyes. The innocence of youth makes us feel ashamed and pained! Often leaning on the balcony, gazing at the drifting clouds and watching the bustling crowds on the street. The clouds are the distant dreams of my youth, while the crowds are the reflection of my dusty present. A gentle breeze cannot wipe the dust from my face, nor can it scatter the dreams of my youth. Sipping a rich cup of coffee, I often ask myself, "What have I lost along the way?" Then I fall silent, staring at the clouds, knowing I have lost myself. In youth, we were ourselves; in adulthood, we become the selves others need us to be. During the day, I wear a numb smile, playing the role others expect, blending in fear of being an outsider. At night, back in my little nest, I relax the face that smiles until it aches, returning to the true self of my innocent days, where the heart feels like it has returned to that pure time when we could just be ourselves.
A silkworm must surely suffer as it turns into a cocoon, yet when it emerges from the chrysalis, it becomes a beautiful butterfly dancing gracefully in the air. It could only crawl on the ground before, but after transformation, it can fly. I think humans are the same—we become more beautiful and stand taller, see farther after enduring pain. In youth, we are easily hurt and easily hurt others; in adulthood, we learn to protect ourselves better and cherish others more. In this mortal world, I view the world with an adult's perspective and live by adult methods, yet in my heart, I always retain the self of my innocent days. Clad in dust, I can still freely gaze at the drifting clouds and watch the flying willow catkins. The meandering youth who once felt lost in the mortal world has finally found a way to harmonize. The weary adult in this mortal world finds lightness and joy because of the pure, tranquil lake within.
No matter how the world changes, no matter how worldly and heartless the mortal world becomes, I remain steadfast. I only hope my words can evoke memories of our innocent days and that the mortal world can hold a little more innocent love. In the flow of time, I hurriedly tread onward, drifting like a duckweed in the mortal world., and I realize I have journeyed through countless mountains and rivers, yet the laughter and gentle rain of youth remain etched in my memory, unerasable.