One hundred and twenty-eight

带着微薄的行李，我们从无知处，开始人生之旅，不知不觉都做了红尘里的归人。

With our meager luggage, we start our journey of life from ignorance, and unconsciously become the returnees in the world of mortals.

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时光太斑斓，无论我们怎么用力，总是略显苍白，有些绚丽总是抓不住；时光太厚重，无论我们如何经营，总是布满缺憾，只好用诗来弥补。

Time is too colorful, no matter how hard we try, it is always a little pale, some gorgeous always can not grasp; time is too heavy, no matter how we manage, it is always full of defects, so we have to make up with poetry.

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岁月无声，一章一章地被临摹，一段一段地被裁剪，又一截一截地被遗落。

Years of silent, chapter by chapter to be copied, one by one to be cut, and one by one to be left behind.

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生命如尘似埃，总是来的太快，去得太远。

生命又如花谢花开，落定、飞扬，起伏升沉，等待被认领，等待被爱，等待被想起或被遗忘……

Life is like dust. It always comes too fast and goes too far. Life is like a flower, falling, flying, rising and falling, waiting to be claimed, to be loved, to be remembered or forgotten

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总以为岁月不会老，只是蓦然回首，常常发现有些记忆已泛黄，青苔覆盖了曾经深刻的足迹。

Always think that time will not be old, but suddenly look back, often found that some memories have been yellow, moss covered once deep footprints.

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更多的时候，人生是一场静默的狂欢。黑白页里彩色的舞蹈，清风明月里的骤雨飞雪，波平浪静的外表下的狂涛巨澜……只是，所有的狂欢里都有着难言的落寞，所有的恣意里都有着甩不脱的桎梏。

More often, life is a silent carnival. The colorful dance in the black and white pages, the rain and snow in the clear wind and moon, and the billows under the calm appearance However, all the carnival have unspeakable loneliness, all the arbitrary have the shackles.

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