看着眼前影影绰绰的烛光,不禁微微有些出神,回首那不知不觉间流过的岁月,到底有多少真真正正地填充了这丰富的人生?毋庸置疑,它们很多很多都已悄悄地从指间流过,不再回头。植物死了,把它的生命留在种子里。诗人离去,把他的生命留在诗句里。“仰天大笑出门去,我辈岂是蓬蒿人。”那时他是多么的狂傲,多么的放荡不羁。满身抱负跨入政坛,满脸污垢地退出大殿,那时肯 Looking at the shadow of the candlelight, can not help but slightly excuse me, looking back through the years that unknowingly flow, in the end how many really filled the rich life? Needless to say, many of them have quietly from the fingers Flow through, no longer back. The plant is dead, leaving its life in the seed. The poet leaves, leaving his life in the verse. “Going out laughing, my generation is basil person. ” Then how proud he is, how boastful. Ambitious into the political arena, foul to withdraw from the hall, then Ken