Stand on the high platform of time and listen to the sound of the breeze in the aisle. This is the wonderful music of youth, this is the joyful or sad feelings of life.

It's as if you hear a cuckoo singing high in the sky, in that distant field. Whenever the wheat is harvested, Bugu Bugu is announcing the joy of the harvest, but now after the busy farming, it is deserted, and only the yellow straw is left in the trance.

Pesticides and fertilizers, where do you send them? It was as if I heard the heartfelt laughter of the fishermen by the pond, and it was the most innocent glorious days.

I still remember using bamboo as a pole, using hemp straw as a drift, and adding earthworms from the dirt, hoping to seduce the greedy elves under the water.

But now the water is murmuring, but lonely gathering, more floating garbage, more heavy metal dissolution, more blackness and stench, less the most mysterious company, loaches, knife loaches, fire heads, trout are all gone, they have become long-term habituals in the mind.

It is as if you hear the joy of birds breeding the next generation, and build a warm nest singing romantic love songs.

Whenever spring comes, after successful courtship, it will pick up a long withered strip, weaving its nest in the green branches, and they will wear and repeat their busy happy appearance.

But now the trees are getting lower and lower, people's houses are getting taller and taller, high-rise buildings are one after another, and there are tragic scenes of logging and filling in the earth to build houses, but this is the standard for people to get married and have children; Everywhere you can hear sad housing prices, hundreds of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, occupants are burdened with exorbitant loans, the family is less, where is the happiness gone.

When the wind blows, the children of the past have grown into the youth of today; When the wind blows through the road, the true feelings of the past become the memories of the moment; When the wind blows through the road, the once moment of gentleness changes the anger of growth, only to find that the once carefree years are so difficult to cherish.

I used to think that the world was far away, on the other side of the distant mountain, but now I find that the world is in my heart, in my ears, in front of my eyes, in the time when the wind blows through the road, thinking what I think, seeing what I see, loving what I love...

"I Am the Emperor of Freedom" 14, the sound of the wind blowing through the aisle (time version) is hitting in the hand, please wait a moment,

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