(1) Life is like a river flowing eastward. It originated in the highest place, and ice and snow were his predecessors. He gathered many small streams, synthesized a powerful Hong Tao, and ran down. He zigzagged through the cliff, washed down a layer of sand and accumulated soil, rolled away happily and bravely, enjoying everything that happened along the way; Sometimes, when confronted with the frontal resistance of rock and rock, I rushed up angrily, roared and whirled, and the waves fluctuated until I passed by and fell off this steep cliff. Sometimes, through the thin flat sand and the grass in the sunset, he saw the red peach blossoms on the shore. He was happy and shy, flowing quietly, singing in a low voice, and spent this romantic journey gently; Sometimes, when he encounters a storm, it will stimulate his mind and soul, and it will thunder. The strong wind blew him up and the heavy rain hit him. He was temporarily turbid and uneasy, but after the rain cleared, it only gave him a lot of new strength; Sometimes he will meet the sunset glow and the new moon, shine on him, cast a shadow on him, and bring some faint warmth in the cold: he just wants to rest and sleep, but the power of progress still urges him to move forward ... (Bing Xin talks about life)

(2)

Looking forward to, looking forward to, the east wind is coming, and the pace of spring is approaching. Everything looked like I had just woken up, and I opened my eyes with joy. The mountains moistened, the water rose and the sun blushed. The grass crawled out of the soil, tender and green. In the garden and in the field, look, there are many such trees. Sit, lie down, roll twice, kick a few balls, run a few laps, grab a few laps. The wind is quiet and the grass is soft. Peach trees, apricot trees and pear trees, you won't let me, and I won't let you. They are all in full bloom. Red is like fire, pink is like chardonnay and white is like snow. Flowers are sweet; When I closed my eyes, the tree seemed to be covered with peaches, Xinger and pears. Hundreds of bees are buzzing under the flowers, and butterflies of different sizes are flying around. Wildflowers are everywhere: miscellaneous, named and unnamed, scattered in the grass like eyes, like stars, still flashing. "Blowing your face is not cold, willow trees become a shade", yes, like a mother's hand touching you. The wind brought the smell of new ploughing, mixed with the smell of grass, and the fragrance of various flowers, all brewing in the slightly humid air. Birds nest in flowers and leaves. They are very happy. Calling friends proudly showed off his crisp voice and sang melodious songs, which set each other off in harmony with the light wind and flowing water. The piccolo of the shepherd boy on the cow's back rang all day at this time.

Zhu Ziqing's Spring