Believe in the future

Believe in the future

 

Index finger

When spider web relentlessly seized my hearth
When the smoke from the ashes sighs the sorrow of poverty
I still stubbornly flat the ashes of disappointment
Write down with beautiful Snow: Believe in the future

When my purple grapes are turned into deep autumn dew (tears) Water
When my flowers depend on others' feelings
I am still stubborn to use the bitter vine of cream (DEW)
Write down on the miserable land: Believe in the future

I want to use my fingers to scatter the waves on the horizon.
I want to use my palm to hold the sea of the sun
Swaying the beautiful pen with the dawn
Write down with your child's pen: Believe in the future

I firmly believe in the future
Yes. I believe in the eyes of people in the future.
She has opened the eyelashes of history.
She has the pupil of years.

No matter whether people treat our rotten skins
Those lost sorrows and pains of failure
Is the tears, deep sympathy
Or give me a contemptuous smile and a cool mocking.

I firmly believe in people's spine
Countless explorations, lost paths, failures, and successes
Will be enthusiastic, objective, and fair
Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their assessment

Believe in the future.
Believe in indomitable efforts
Believe in victory over the dead young

Believe in the future and love life

 

That day,
I closed my eyes in the misty mist of the temple,
Suddenly you hear the truth in your song;

That month,
I shake all the cylinders,
Not superdegree,
Just to touch your fingertip;

That year,
Long Head crawls on a mountain road,
Not for example,
Only to stick to your warmth;

That I,
Turning mountains to water and turning to Buddhist towers,
Do not repair the afterlife,
Only meet you on the way.

That month,
I turned around all the channels,
It is not super-high, just to touch your fingerprint;

That year, I gritted my head and embraced the dust,
Not for the Buddha, just for your warmth;

That one, I rummaged through 100,000 mountains,
Not to repair the afterlife, but to meet you on the road;

But that night, I forgot everything,
Throwing away faith and abandoning reincarnation,
Only for the rose that used to cry before the Buddha,
Old sun's luster has been lost