情书

经过几天短暂休整后的今天早上，你又背上沉沉的行囊，迈着稳健、坚毅的步伐，自信而有力地踏上又一段人生旅途。虽然不舍，虽然前路漫漫，虽然会布满荆棘与坎坷，虽然会很苦很累。但你说，为了我，为了女儿，为了我们这个家的明天能更好的相聚，也为了自己心中的理想和前程，所有将经历的一切，都会变得更有意义，都将是对人生的充实和丰富，是对自己的历练和修为的提升，也是对自己体验幸福生活的诠释。很高兴，也很欣慰的是，在历经了近二十年的难以数记的摔倒、爬起，再摔倒、再爬起;也尝试了多种不同职业。你终于找到了满意的适合自己的人生方向，为自己定下了明确的目标，制定了实现目标的祥实计划，正带着满腔的激情和强烈的爱在这条选定的远景道路上，大踏步地向前行进着。今晨的天空很蓝，很高，很阔，有片淡而亮的红色云彩在东方天际升起，像是一张微醉的少女的透着红晕的粉脸，在笑盈盈地看着这美好一天的来到。那也是我的一片深情的寄托，是我对你深深的爱和祝愿：愿你在没有我在身旁的每天都是这样风轻日和的好天气。我在心中默默地祈祷着。你坚定而激情的展望美好未来的话语萦绕在耳边。我感觉到了踏实、可靠和幸福。你虽偶尔随意地淡淡说起你当前所从事的工作，却也能让我感到你对它的强烈的热爱和投入;你虽不经意地谈起你对未来的规划，但你坚定的语气和坚毅表情的流露，表明了你的自信和一定能实现的愿景，给了我真实感和无限向往与期待。

When I consider every thing that grows,

Holds in perfection but a little moment,

That this huge stage presenteth naught but shows

Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;

When I perceive that men as plants increase,

Cheered and checked even by the selfsame sky;

Vaunt in their youthful sap,at height decrease,

And wear their brave state out of memory:

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay

Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,

Where wasteful time debateth with decay

Not from the stars do I judgement pluck,

And yet methinks I have astronomy;

But not to tell of good or evil luck,

Of plagues,of dearths,or seasons'quality;

Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,

Pointing to each his thunder,rain,and wind,

Or say with princes if it shall go well,

By oft predict that I in heaven find.

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,

And,constant stars,in them I read such art,

As truth and beauty shall together thrive,

If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;

O that you were yourself!But,love,you are.

No longer yours than you yourself here live.

Against this coming end you should prepare,

And your sweet semblance to some other give.

So should that beauty which you hold in lease

Find no determination;then you were

Yourself again after your self's decease,

When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.

Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,

Which husbandry in honour might uphold

Against the stormy gusts of winter's day,

And barren rage of death's eternal cold?

When I do count the clock that tells the time,

And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls are silver'd o'er with white;

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

And summer's green,all girded up in sheaves,

Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;

Then thou among the wastes of time must go,

Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,

And die as fast as they see other grow,

As fast as thou shalt wane,so fast thou grow'st.

In one of thine from that which thou departest,

And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st

Thou mayst call thine,when thou from youth convertest.

Herein lives wisdom,beauty,and increase;

Without this,folly,age,and cold decay.

If all were minded so,the times should cease,

And threescore year would make the world away.

Let those whom nature hath not made for store,

Harsh,featureless,and rude,barrenly perish.

Look whom she best endowed she gave the more;

Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye.

That thou consum'st thyself in single life?

Ah!if thou issueless shalt hap to die,

The world will wail thee like a makeless wife.

The world will be thy widow and still weep,

that thou no form fo thee hast left behind,

when every private widow well may keep,

By children's eyes,her husbend's shape in mind.

Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend,

Shifts but his place,for still the world enjoys it;

But bearty's waste hath in the world and end,

For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any.

Who for thyself art so unprovident.

Grant,if thou wilt,thou art beloved of many,

But that thou none lov'st is most evidents;

For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate

That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,

Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate

Which to repair should be thy chief desire.

O,change thy thought,that I may change my mind!

Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?

Be as thy presence is,gracious and kind,

Music to hear,why hear'st thou music sadly?

Sweets with sweets war not,joy delights in joy.

Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly.

Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well tuned sounds,

By unions married,do offend thine ear,

They do but sweetly chide thee,who confounds

In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

Mark how one string,sweet husband to another,

Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;

Resembling sire,and child,and happy mother,

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface.

In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled;

Make sweet some vial,treasure thou some place

With bearty's treasure ere it be self-killed.

That use is not forbidden usury

Which happies those that pay the willing loan;

That's for thyself to breed another thee,

Or ten times happier,be it ten for one.

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,

If ten of thine ten times refigured thee.

Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,

Leaving thee living in posterity?