When I pour out the inner conflicts and struggles under my sorrowful pen, and then guard the agony of right and wrong on the edge of life, the pain lingers at dusk, and bitterness permeates through the night. There is nowhere to bid farewell; sorrow and heartbreak are in sight but unattainable. Looking back each day, pondering over human nature, enduring loneliness, lamenting the world, when I gently pick up my wine glass and say to myself, "Raise your cup and drink freely without stopping," all the bumps and bruises of this world have already turned into wind, drifting away with the dust. If you're still immersed in disputes over interests, if you're still living an unsatisfactory life, if you're still saddened by lofty ambitions and unrecognized talents, come on, friend! Even if life has myriad enchantments, none can match the intoxication of a single bout of drunkenness.
The breeze is light, cold like a thread, as if it were in the mortal realm, yet colder than ice. Even if we work hard in life, or do our best to live without regret, or be conscientious and responsible, not everything will go as planned. So many people have perished in the surging waves of struggle, and so many more follow, not seeking fame, fortune, power, or beauty. But this is merely wishful thinking. Are there really that many good people and deeds? Seeking tranquility, yet never finding peace; seeking detachment, yet never achieving it; silent deep thoughts lead to indignation about life, and countless mundane matters disturb the mind. Let everything drift with the wind, but the wind will never understand the vicissitudes of the world or human relations. Thus, sighs abound amidst the comings and goings of people.
I often suffer from my own mood, never seeing the bright sunshine, and am even more troubled by my own worries, dark as frost. I also feel the bleakness of the future, yet achieve nothing. In the face of success and failure, we cannot control our lives or our ideals. Today, we mock others' foolishness and humility, tomorrow we laugh at our own arrogance. One day, for just a meal, we stop laughing, stop being obsessed, stop demanding blue skies and white clouds. On that day, perhaps all we want is a shower of rain, a heavy snowfall, to quietly admire the white, simple, and pure silver-clad earth in the fields covered with flying snow. However, all of this will become a lasting memory when spring warms and flowers bloom. The anxiety and dreams of childhood will melt into the earth, turning into soil, silently without a sound.
In the darkness of night, stars may shed no tears, in drizzle, people may walk tiredly, in fatigue, dreaming itself becomes exhausting. In this game of life, whether you swim around or play around, it's all just a state of fate. Perhaps only when you're tired of it all do you find everything boring. Yet when you're deeply trapped, you don't know how to extricate yourself. Blind obedience prevails, even if you have the ability to discern right from wrong, you dare not speak a word of truth. Speaking against your will, pretending to be someone you're not, following the rules of the game, perhaps such is the way. Observers can only watch indifferently, lost in their own intoxicated musings.
Pursuit, always in pursuit, when one finds gain along the path of searching, it won't feel bitter or tiring. But when one seeks desperately without result, and it's impossible to achieve, the disappointment brought by wind and rain, the desolation of the heart, will leave one alone in the night. Sweating to uphold the dignity of survival, overthinking to elevate the soul, maintaining high standards to seek one’s own life, yet ultimately ending up with a fate where aspirations exceed abilities while life is fragile.
I think, all difficulties are the best friends life gives us because we don't have wealthy ancestors to pave the way, nor extraordinary intelligence to flatter and please. What we have is only the simplest work and life, the poverty that makes reading seem noble, and a simple faith in life. Why hate iron for not becoming steel? Hate oneself for not becoming benevolent? Indeed, since life is short, why not indulge in a drunken revelry? Since everything is discussed with laughter, why not embrace a life of occasional intoxication?
This passage reflects deeply on the struggles, disappointments, and philosophical musings of life. It discusses the complexities of human emotions, societal pressures, and the ultimate acceptance of life's imperfections.