In the long river of time, where is the future of the post-70s,
was once a teenager, but now he is a white-haired man.
They have dreamed, they have pursued, they have struggled,
But in the torrent of reality, he gradually lost his way.
The mid-life crisis of the post-70s generation in rural areas
Their eyes once sparkled with hope,
Now it has been ruthlessly polished by the vicissitudes of time.
In their hearts, once passionate dreams,
Now it is buried silently under the weight of reality.
Their future is a vague fog,
I can't see the road ahead, and I can't find the way forward.
Their future is an endless desert,
You can't find the oasis of life, you can't get out of the desert of life.
Their future is a silent night sky,
The stars have gone out and the moon has set.
Their future is a lonely ocean,
The sea breeze has subsided, and the waves have calmed down.
Where is their future?
Will they still be able to find themselves in the midst of the changes of the times?
Where is their future?
In this corner of society, can they still find a place to belong?
Where is their future?
Will they still find hope on the edge of this world?
Where is their future?
On the stage of life, can they still find themselves?
Where is the future of the post-70s?
This is an irony, this is a pathos, this is the pain of an era, this is a social lament.