Pour out volcanic passion
Declare it to people
The desire for life
One by one, the burning sun
Bursting with thousands of years of enthusiasm
There is no cure
The trauma left by suffering
The obsession that goes deep into the bone marrow freezes in an instant
On the road to the pursuit of ideals
Life is silent in the despair of loneliness
The soul beats with the light of hope
Repin's "The Porter on the Volga"
Toughness pulls forward-leaning bodies
Fighting against the helplessness and helplessness behind him
Tighten the rope into the muscle
Pulling the heavy life slowly forward
On the edge of the years
The stinginess of the hard-working footsteps
Splashed wet his cloudy eyes and looked down
The sweat-soaked footprints are no longer known
But he was still moaning and looking up
The scorching sun could not recognize the face full of wind and frost
The ravine stretched among the fading grasses
Interprets the connotation of suffering
And those bark-like calluses
It is also speaking without words
The warmth and cold of the human world, maybe this life
Living is their motto in life
Rodin's The Thinker
Above the gates of hell, you
Reminded in an eternal posture
People wandering at the gates of hell
All the sufferings and injustices of the world
It will eventually be overcome and destroyed
Your curled body endures
The pain of the mountains pouring down
Your twisted undulating muscles bulge
Indomitability, confidence and hope
Who can't look at you squarely?
Those deep eyes
Turn all your indifference and contempt
Warm until dissolved
Although not a word was uttered, it was
Let the silence freeze in time
It is being passed on to the world
Your ultimate thoughts