為了理想作彤,第四次去撞南墻
腳步卻遲疑,蹣跚
一鼓作氣乌逐,再而衰竭讳,事不過三
第四次是什么?是慣性黔帕,是不甘代咸,
像石頭一次次從山頂滾落,
西西弗斯一次次重推上山
但成黄,我已倦了呐芥,累了
理想不再真切,泛著幻光
理想是葉公好龍嗎奋岁?
假的龍思瘟,幻想的龍,恐怖的龍
理想是仗劍屠龍闻伶?
手無寸鐵滨攻,學(xué)了屠龍術(shù),
屠龍少年,落寞的走進(jìn)中年光绕,
拔“賤”四顧心茫然女嘲。
老母親滿腹的憂郁,
老婆也變得不耐煩诞帐,
我的小女兒?jiǎn)眩?/p>
爸爸可曾為你添置衣裳欣尼?
這理想,來自何方停蕉?
來自媒體愕鼓,來自書籍,
還是來自課堂慧起?
老師說人人都有理想
遠(yuǎn)大崇高才得表揚(yáng)菇晃,
忠貞不渝才是好漢,
寫不出理想別出學(xué)堂蚓挤。
理想?yún)s成了逃避的港灣
遇到現(xiàn)實(shí)的困難和打擊
就逃去尋找詩和遠(yuǎn)方磺送,
一次次逃避,
現(xiàn)實(shí)變得腐臭屈尼,理想成了魔咒册着,
越焦慮,越徘徊脾歧,越積累不足甲捏,
止步不前,功虧一簣鞭执。
放手吧司顿,空洞無根的的理想,
扎根吧兄纺,在現(xiàn)實(shí)黝黑的土壤大溜,
面對(duì)吧,那冷峻殘酷的現(xiàn)狀估脆,
生長(zhǎng)吧钦奋,那心底真正的欲望,
解放吧疙赠,把一個(gè)個(gè)定義推翻付材,
耐心吧,在過去層層廢墟上圃阳,
松綁吧厌衔,曾經(jīng)的理想,
我將用老舊的工具重建家園捍岳!
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If’ - by Rudyard Kipling
如果周圍的人毫無理性地向你發(fā)難富寿,
你仍能鎮(zhèn)定自若保持冷靜睬隶;
如果眾人對(duì)你心存猜忌,
你仍能自信如常并認(rèn)為他們的猜忌情有可原页徐;
如果你肯耐心等待不急不躁苏潜,
或遭人誹謗卻不以牙還牙,
或遭人憎恨卻不以惡報(bào)惡变勇,
既不裝腔作勢(shì)窖贤,亦不氣盛趾高;
如果你有夢(mèng)想贰锁,而又不為夢(mèng)主宰;
如果你有神思滤蝠,而又不走火入魔豌熄;
如果你坦然面對(duì)勝利和災(zāi)難,
對(duì)虛渺的勝負(fù)榮辱胸懷曠蕩物咳;
如果你能忍受有這樣的無賴锣险,
歪曲你的口吐真言蒙騙笨漢,
或看著心血鑄就的事業(yè)崩潰览闰,
仍能忍辱負(fù)重腳踏實(shí)地重新攀登芯肤;
如果你敢把取得的一切勝利,
為了更崇高的目標(biāo)孤注一擲压鉴,
面臨失去崖咨,決心從頭再來,
而絕口不提自己的失去油吭;
如果人們?cè)缫央x你而去击蹲,你仍能堅(jiān)守陣地奮力前驅(qū),
身上已一無所有婉宰,唯存意志在高喊“頂住”歌豺;
如果你跟村夫交談而不變謙虛之態(tài),
亦或與王侯散步而不露諂媚之顏;
如果敵友都無法對(duì)你造成傷害心包;
如果眾人對(duì)你信賴有加卻不過分依賴类咧;
如果你能惜時(shí)如金利用每一分鐘不可追回的光陰,
那么蟹腾,你的修為就會(huì)如天地般博大痕惋,并擁有了屬于自己的世界,
更重要的是:我的兒子岭佳,你成為了一名真正的男人血巍!
English Original:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!