1April, the Misty LoveThe years are peaceful. The fingertips of the graceful youth are as white as jade. Though the ten slender fingers hold together tightly to cover the sun, rays of golden light can shine throgh them.The warm April is a month of dreams and illusions. Reflecting the flying time and scenes of the past, havent you had the youth as pure as the azure blue sky? Havent you once been tameless and obssessed? Havent you looked far into the distance alone to see the flashing colored lights in the illusonary night when the dim light loomed in the deepening twilght, lurking and hiding themselves here and there? “You are the blooming flowers over the trees, you are a swallow twittering between the beams, full of love, full of warm hope.”. Beautiful and meaningful as Lin Huiyins poem is, and who will copy the poem You Are the April of This World - Ode to Love to me?Let the heart be free and may whatever it cry. With the lonely pen, I myself touch the warmth of a firework gently. I think of the cold eyes, the powerless search, the whispers scattering in the sprays and the yearning shaking in the wind. Perhaps the true happiness is always possessed by the sea, neither by this shore nor by the other shore. Standing in the bustling street, watching the traffic flow and being filled with lonliness, I know nothing of where to go or what I should own . Alas, som things become loads once they are possessed, and the more the possessed, the heavier the loads are; some things undoubtedly possessed dont belong to me; some things dont seem to be possessed by me, but belong to me . Regardless of whether you are happy or sad, stop your love and hatred, close your eyes softly and listen carefully to the dance of the shadows of trees and the floating of clouds out of the window. When trying hard to use up a day to sleep, it feels like sinking into the gloomy seafloor, like reliving the seasons experienced by the sleeping beauty: Sleeping from the unknown end and wake up on another side of the world, the vast ocean of the mind is wider than sea, and the bottomless night and the movement 2of constellations whisper the infinite mystery of time and space. Many times I have recalled of the self before crossing the Naihe Bridge1 and recognizing your face of the prelife mistily. If I had not drinked the Mengpo soup2, would I be able to pick you out of the crowd? Thistles and thorns extended around my bed while an instant of time stopped at a certain moment out of shock. However, the blurry memory has been preserved in its perfect state.The road to Weicheng3 is rough and full of obstacles, but who will give a timely delivery of a proper kiss at the right moment? The sound of horseshoes rings across mountains and streams, and who will come on a white horse? Who will cut off the rusty chains with his sharp sword?The dreamworld of sleeping beauty is bleak, and time flows away like wind and sand.One hundred years later, the rose of love blossoms on her lips that are as cold as the moonlight on the sea. In fact, for my lofty character, I love the fairy tales that are half bleak and half gorgeous.Same as watching the sudden thunderstorm at nightfall, standing in the middle of the pure white snowland stirs the mind. At the moment when the grey clouds overwhelm the sunny sky, all I want is to sleep in the darkness and go to your sea to find my scallop. I meet the mermaid who drops tears that turn into pearls in the starry night. And how many sorrows she have had to make the sea resplendent with pearls. I want to stroke her hair gently, hear her tell about the singing, the two legs, the disappeared foams and the age-old love story which is handed down for many years. I want to put my arm around her shoulder and watch how the moon turns from cool to cold at a place near the great rocks. In a place far away, you say, from your window, you can see the sea. This limitless sea distresses me so much. Maybe its because of lonliness and the noise outside the window that I stay sleepless the whole night and imagine those things on my bed: I fly half way around the world to see you and your light and to hear your waves. I open the eyes as if it is after several centuries to find the sunny sky with harsh daylight. A new day will be full of new stories. Let me enjoy the bright spring, run fast, love, experience and write a cheerful and beautiful poem. Though I can not pick 3you out among the crowded peole, I still believe what I have devoted will be engraved in your heart.Looking up to watch the clean sky, and I look down to think of you. Are you the beauty who stay near the water thousand years ago and roaring a boat out of The Book of Songs4 ? The shy sickle moon on the sky, which is still lingering on the flaming red sand on the river, calls for me impatiently, “Cloud, are you here?”Walking in the earthly life and humming for the fleeting of time, I am used to find the true self in faint pains. Let the time that gently touched b