站在十八岁的门口,望向人生的大海,我想:
Standing at the door of 18, looking at the sea of life, I think:
把帆留给风,
Leave the sail to the wind,
把桨留给浪,
Leave the oars to the waves,
把船长的位置留给我!
Leave me the captain's place!
站在文学的门口
Standing at the door of literature
青山隐隐,绿水迢迢,我站在文学的门口,窥见那门内流转的,是墨笔生香,勾勒出清风明月的韵致;梧桐细雨,西窗红烛,我站在文学的门口,窥见那门内流淌的,是令人心旌摇动的浓愁与长情。站在文学的门口,我已能听到门里的笙箫,门里的叹息,门里的牧笛,门里的美妙,站在文学的门口,我心中摇曳着的思索,已化作一江春水,流入门内的世界。
Green hills are hidden, and green water is far away. I stand at the door of literature, and I see that the flowing of the door is the fragrance of ink, and the charm of the clear and bright moon. The Wutong drizzle and the Western window are red candles. I stand at the door of literature and see that the flowing inside the door is a strong and sad feeling that is stirring. Standing at the door of literature, I can hear the Sheng Xiao, the sigh, the piccolo and the beauty in the door. Standing at the door of literature, my thoughts have turned into a river of spring water flowing into the world inside.
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