I welcome the dawn on a deserted island.When the sun first rose, suddenly a hundred thousand golden trumpets blared together.The sun shines through the transparent air and flies across the dark blue sky.A hundred thousand candles burn on the still dark sea.I heard the bell ringing between heaven and earth, and then a hundred thousand golden trumpets sounded again.I suddenly burst into tears, but my heart was singing.A long, elastic sword passed through my chest, bringing a great pleasure like a sharp pain.This is the most beautiful moment of my life, I stand on that threshold, from now on I will be connected with eternity... Because I know I have won, so those burning words appear before my eyes and in my ears Middle roar.This is a song of victory, with sonorous rhyme, like a piece of music.I fumbled in my wet pocket and found the piece of hard alloy that someone gave me to scratch the glass.So I engraved my poems in my strong handwriting on the stone wall, this is my victory monument.There are weathered stones everywhere on this lonely stone island, only this hard and smooth stone wall.I filled it with my poems, and deepened the writing, in order to make it permanent in this inaccessible place.

When I was little, I was often awakened from sleep by a cold terror, and I gazed long into the night.I don't understand why I am dying.When I die, all feeling will cease, and I will disappear into chaos.I'm afraid of feeling nothing, and I'd rather have a feeling for a long time.Even if it hurts. When I got a little older, I started thinking hard.I know that the universe and eternity are infinite, while myself, like everyone else, is finite.I don't like this comparison very much, and I always want to negate it.So I began to wonder if there is a meaning greater than man and humanity.After I realized that this kind of meaning does not exist from a human point of view, a lonely sea appeared in front of me.All that people do is play before death...

Having grown up meditating, I developed a love for poetry.I have read a lot of poetry, some of which are really good poems.Good poems describe different things, and their rhythms vary, but they all have something in common.It has a crystalline radiance that seems to come from the stars... wish I could read it forever and break this lonely sea.I wish I could write poems like this.I wish I was a star too.If I can shine, I don't have to be afraid of the dark.If I am that good myself, then all fears can vanish.So I began to save a little hope - if I can do it, then I will overcome the fate of loneliness.

But I haven't started writing for a long time, and I don't dare to risk such great hopes.If I write shit, it's all over. When I was seventeen, I went to the south to jump in the queue.In the dry season, the sky there is blue and clear. Standing in the small bamboo building and looking around, the bamboo forests are green and slender.The clouds in the sky are white and plump, floating slowly.I think I should give it a try. In the beginning, it was as mysterious as first love, and I wanted to avoid others to try myself.In the middle of the night, I slipped out of bed, listened to other people's breathing, quietly went to the window, and sat thinking under the bright moonlight.It seems that there are some feelings, some vague words, and I don't know what to write down.In the moonlight, I write on a mirror with a fountain pen.The words and sentences written are terribly childish.I painted and wrote and wrote and painted until I painted the mirror dark blue and my fingers and palms blue.Back in bed, I cried.It seemed like a worse nightmare.

Later, I wrote it in pain, and it took a long time to write. There were many crooked and bad poems in my notebook, which stimulated me to keep writing.When thirty notebooks were filled, I got a serious illness and was as thin as a skinny cat after I was discharged from the hospital.At noon, I squatted down and stood up again, and everything around me turned green. I returned to Beijing due to illness and lived in a borrowed hut on the street.I could borrow a lot of books in Beijing, and I read a lot of literary theories, from Aristotle to Bisimov in the Soviet Union. I tried to find a way to my goal through rational analysis, but nothing came of it.

At that time, I was so poor that I was crazy, and I was always looking forward to picking up money on the ground.I was raised by my aunt, but she died a few years ago.The job has not been settled for a long time, and I am embarrassed to ask my classmates to borrow money.I turned all kinds of ideas, but I must not steal.I can't do it.I want to work as a temporary worker, but the registration procedures are procrastinating.The rest only needs to pick up the junk. After dark, I took a broken sack and headed to the garbage station.I stood on the garbage dump but couldn't bend down.This may have to be cultivated since childhood, or be more hungry.As I was walking away with my empty sack, a girl passed by.I only knew her once, but she questioned me repeatedly.I couldn't make up a lie, so I had to tell the truth.

She almost burst into tears and insisted on visiting the place where I live.There, I told her all about me.I was so upset that day that I told her I was going to give up everything.After looking over what I had written, she pointed out that there were three impeccably good poems.She said things might not be as bad as I thought.But I can't remember how those three poems were written anyway.I am not yet a source, a luminary, so nothing can comfort me. Later she often came to my place.I showed her everything I wrote, because she had a good eye for telling the good from the bad.She is smart and beautiful.Then we put it all down and fell in love, kissing at night in the shadow of street lights.Three months later, she was going back to her hometown where she jumped in the queue, and I went with her.

There is a small village by the sea.This is the location of the commune. She worked as a broadcaster in the commune and arranged for me to be a substitute teacher in the middle school of the commune. She has three large tile-roofed houses, built on a small hill outside the village, with their backs facing the sea, no houses on all sides, and no courtyard walls. The wind blowing from the land blows the doors and windows without hindrance.She needed company very much, so I also lived in that house, telling the outside world that I was her cousin and that my family's money was used to build this house.People don't believe it at all, but they don't mind our business.We were very close, but felt no need to register our marriage.I live in the east room, and I often sit at the door without falling asleep at night, and she often comes to accompany me.We talked a lot, a lot about me.

It seems that writing poetry is an unbearable burden for me, but this is already an unchangeable thing.I must go to the end of this road.I must pursue this ability, and must strive forever.My opponent is myself, and I want him to be good enough to satisfy me.She wanted me to fight to the end.She likes that people can do the impossible, and all her hopes are tied to it.If nothing is impossible, then everything is easy. I kept trying and wrote countless bad poems.Occasionally a few good sentences were written, but none that really satisfied her.I always seem to be wandering around in a poor circle, unable to climb out.I have looked for various objective and subjective reasons, but nothing helped.She said I should take a step forward from where I was, but I couldn't move.

I lived like this for several years.Sometimes when I went for a walk by the beach with her hand in my arms, I thought, "Forget it! I'm happy too. What a good companion she is. Maybe I'll be happy when I'm satisfied." But I couldn't calm down.My mind is always on that elusive goal.I often see that lonely sea.If I stop, then I am lonely, why not try. Yesterday morning, the principal asked me to take a dozen students to catch the spring tide.We went to the beach in the middle of the sea in two batches to dig oysters, and we were going to take them back and sell them to the supply and marketing cooperatives to increase the school's income.After the first batch of students boarded the boat in the afternoon, a strong wind suddenly blew from the land.At this time, the tide had risen to level the beach, and the waves gradually became bigger, lifting all the sand on the sandbar.If the waves knocked us out to sea, the students would drown, and I might drown too, or go to jail if I didn't.I let the students pull on my waistband and push me against the sea.I am 1.90 meters tall and weigh 180 catties. If the waves don't leave me, the students will be safe too.

When the boat came to pick us up, the waves were so high that they almost buoyed me, and once we did we were done.The boat didn't dare to approach, so it ran aground on the beach, and went around to the leeward place. I pushed the students out of the wave crest one by one, and let them float onto the boat.The last student got a little water, and when I floated up with him, he was pawing right on my chin with a dog-pawing motion, knocking me out for a few seconds, and woke up almost full.When I surfaced again, the boat was far away.I yelled, but they didn't hear me, and I sank again with the waves.When I got to the top of the wave again, the boat was already rolling away, and they must have thought I was drowned. I struggled in the sea for a long time, and the land disappeared on the horizon.I kept sinking to the bottom of the sea, because I was too heavy to float up.The sea is going to drown me.But I ran into a boat without a paddle floating in the sea.I climbed into the boat and let it float.I was dizzy and vomited upside down.After dark, the wind died down.I saw a small island in the midst of this sea and swam up. I meet the dawn on a deserted island, and I hear the sound of golden trumpets.On this deserted island, I wrote the first poem in my life that gushed out of the fountain, and I carved it on the stone. All around me was the sea, which shone golden, then silver, and the sky changed from light red to sky blue.There was not a single boat in sight on the sea.There is a toy-like Dragon King Temple on the top of the island.Maybe people won't come to save me and I'll go back to the sea and try to swim back to shore by myself but I'm not scared.I don't feel hungry and can last for a long time.I can either wait or swim.Now I am willing to wait.So I stood on top of the island with my arms crossed.I am proud that I have achieved my first victory and I have no doubt that victories will follow.I can overcome fate and change myself as I want, so I am a hero.I did the first thing I couldn't do, and I can do it again.I love my poetry because I know it is truly beautiful, with an indisputable brilliance about it.I also like what I have made myself, and I am satisfied with him. A small boat appeared in the sky, a small white dot, and then it looked like a white swan.I stood on top of the hill, took off my shirt and waved it around.It was she, alone, rowing a white lifeboat that she got from the swimming pool of the Naval Gunnery School.She waved at the boat.I ran to the shore to meet her. She cried and hugged me, saying that she had been looking for me at sea all night.People believed that I was drowned, but she did not believe that I was going to die.I led her to the stone and showed her the poem I wrote.She looked at it silently for a long time, and then asked me for the piece of carbide, and asked me to engrave my name on it.But I won't let her engrave.I don't need to engrave my name.Names don't matter to me.I don't want people to know my name because my victories are mine.