When people pay, there will always be expectations and demands. They must ask for something in return for what they have given. They pay too much attention to the joy of harvesting after sowing and ignore the mood at the moment of sowing. The earth needs a seed buried in its body, which belongs only to itself. I understand-because I'm lonely, too. Just, who will understand me? Looking back after a long walk, I found my father still standing in the same place, stupefied. I know my attitude just now hurt my father deeply, but he didn't blame him. I just want to forget, forget yesterday, forget tomorrow, forget the day after tomorrow, forget myself, forget everything!
Soon after winter, I have forgotten the Confucius who was stubbornly buried by me. Until the touch of green in spring crept up the branches.