Water. Standing on the top of the mountain, the remote town is surrounded by the water. An ancient water flows in my palm. We all spread out our hands and let the rain gather on it. In a flash, those small ditches filled up, converged into small streams, streams, rivers, seas and finally a vast ocean. We are all moved, tears will sink into the hands of the sea. You know, standing on this mountain, we see a sea, which is the sea in our hearts, more turbulent than the real sea, wanton ocean.

风吹起来了。“风啊，你吹起来吧，摇动我呆滞的目光，成两条波光涟潋的溪流，我将以你的慈爱，重以手指，蘸着时间。”我已经忘却了这诗人的名字，却永远记得这诗。风吹起来了，带来远方的寒意，远方的歌，远方的希望。

The wind is blowing. "Wind, blow it up, shake my dull eyes, and make two streams of ripples. I will dip time with your love and fingers." I have forgotten the poet's name, but I will always remember it. The wind blows up, bringing the chill of the distance, the song of the distance, the hope of the distance.

我们站定，向远方致敬。这是一次平常的攀登，却也是一首清新的小诗。

We stand and salute the distance. This is a common climb, but also a fresh poem.

我们都说，要永远诗意地歌唱，诗意地生活。

We all say that we should always sing poetically and live poetically.

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