I have personally experienced N kinds of men
Trees in winter
The trees in winter are solemn,
And even more concise and straightforward.
They shed the tenderness of spring,
The brilliance of summer,
And the splendor of autumn,
To become a sharp sword,
Pointing straight to the sky,
Standing there with integrity.
When rain comes,
When frost comes,
When ice comes,
When snow comes,
It faces them all calmly,
And shoulders them all generously.
Without needing the leaves to applaud beside it,
Nor the wind to stir nearby,
A tree is just a tree.
Silently it shoulders what it should,
And faces what it must with openness.
It has lost the lushness and beauty that leaves once brought,
But it has also discarded the complexity and burden.
A tree fully covered with leaves in summer may be snapped by fierce winds,
But the trees in winter,
In the face of strong winds,
Either stand straight, or fall down,
Yet they will never bend.
Because,
They have abandoned the clutter and burden.
Simplicity is the most beautiful.
I like the trees in winter,
I like the simplicity and integrity of the trees in winter.