And that will be the "burning years" that we have all gone through.
I admire such a father. He has experienced wars, seen killings, and fell in love with people who shouldn't love each other, but he just wants to guard the pure land of his heart. He is a man with knowledge and etiquette, but also a man who is unruly and wild; he is a father who speaks little, and is also the greatest father in the world who loves his son the most.
He just wants to wait for a piece of pure land, but his relatives are always far away. He knows that relatives have their own lives and he must respect all their choices because he loves them so much. So every time, he would only hug them and say a safe return. But things backfired, there are returning sons and old friends. The returnee is tired, go home and rest in peace. The deceased passed away, leaving the world with a lifetime of guilt and love and hate. Although, we usually call all of these, in general terms, years.
Green grass west wind, Lin Hai Yang Yang, whoever changes your face to old, who gently obliterates your wrinkles. The singing is lingering, and the fighting is erratic. Who still remembers how deeply your years were, and who still misses your son and how it made you happy and painful. Maybe, I hold myself up and tell myself that I'm a man, but another fact is that you are also a father.
I would fall in love with such a woman too. She is sensible, gentle, appreciative, adaptable, humble and proud. She is also wild, she is also enthusiastic, she knows how to comfort, know how to wait, know how to love herself and understand the heart of a man. When she laughs, the world will stand still; when she cry, the sky will be cloudy. She is a woman who is waiting in the western wilderness for her man to come home. She is a woman who is weak and delicate in her heart and dares to love and hate. And she is still a woman after all. So, forever, maybe really long. This is for her, and it is for all of us.
Tristin came back, bruised and tired. She was by the window, and in her passionate eyes, she showed love, flirting, and lovesickness. It was not vulgar lust, but true love, and it was an irresistible power that erupted in her heart. She bit her fingers, side by side, reuniting and meeting further away.
She loves him and can adapt to grasslands and pastures. Can Basil show up, can gallop wild, can give birth to a child for him to settle down. Although she also knew that Tristin was a bear in his prime, unyielding, uninhibited, wild and passionate. And when they meet again in different places, they are speechless and tearful. It's still those tender eyes, as if it can swallow all the emotions in the world, but it can't do anything, the heart of the person he loves the most.
I am afraid that there will be many times of helplessness in one's life, and helpless falling in love, helpless letting go, is probably the most painful in life and the most hated in death.
I fantasize more that I can be such a man. It can be sloppy, but the eyes are always domineering and impeccable, and it can be rude but unrestrained to mount a horse or gallop wildly, which will always make a woman's heart palpitate. He is a proud legend of nature and human beings, a king and hero in poetry, and even a hunter. The heroic soul of life surrounds the tip of his knife and his blood, which complements him walking forward with his head held high in the hymn of life.
After the passion, before the years, we will also see so much tenderness and affection in this God's darling.
The soul of the deceased brother is the guilt of his life; abandoning his love and dying is his helpless choice; the father's embrace is worth a thousand words, and the pain of the deceased wife makes us see the feared and painful boy again. This strong-willed, resolute man, this emotionally fragile and restless boy, this unruly man who makes women go crazy and miserable for a lifetime, this man who lives and dies together with the black bear.
And his whole life is all the way to find his heroic soul. I also lost my inner emotions along the way. It is full and overflowing, and the rich is reluctant to accept it, so it is poured out to prepare the ground. However, when we regretted it, he was already walking on the road.
Ludlows, the word is the meaning of their Ludlows family. The history of this family is this "years of love".
People in those days were no different from ordinary people. The burning story is related to legend. The mighty human heart and abundant feelings, along with this heart-sweeping melody, interpret another kind of forever - the grassland that never sets, the river that never stops, the horseshoe that never wailes, and the pasture that never turns yellow.
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