The smartest people in the world are those who learn from others' painful experiences as their own lessons, while the foolish insist on gaining such experience only after suffering it themselves.
The sea is like a dictionary of water, with waves as radicals, the sound of tides as phonetics, and fish, shrimp, and seabirds as its written language.
Do not blame others for disappointing you; often the real issue is having expected too much.
I write fragments of broken verses to record endless longing and unspoken feelings, never sharing them easily with others. I wish to entrust my thoughts to music, yet true understanding is rare—who would listen when the strings have already broken? Even if spoken, they may still go unheard, except by you, who are different.
When feeling optimistic, do not overstate your joy; when feeling pessimistic, do not exaggerate your sorrow. Life is often neither as bad nor as good as we imagine.
As seasons change and time flows, we keep walking alone through confusion, exhaustion, hesitation, and unease. Disappointment is everywhere, and confusion never leaves. No one knows when this solitary journey will finally reach its destination.
The autumn wind is bleak, and ink stains fade with sorrow. Looking back at the past, everything has turned into drifting memories. A scroll of poetry fades like mist, a page of dreams like dust. Layers of longing and sorrow fall upon paper, filled with coldness and solitude—fallen petals, broken dreams, chilly waters, and autumn grief. Coldness deepens again and again, like a dream of desolation. In the autumn wind, whose longing has been weathered by time?
