“理想是石,敲出星星之火；理想是火,点燃希望的灯。”青春时光,诵读流沙河先生的《理想》,不由得热血沸腾、感慨万千。人到中年时回头看,佳作没写出来, 诗人的梦也早已不做,理想这个词也随着岁月的流逝而渐渐淡忘。生活的真实,是上有老下有小和油盐柴米。工作的角色,是每天和老百姓打交道的人大机关信访干部。诗情早已淡漠,理想早已是茶余酒后的回忆。 “Ideal is the stone, knocking out the sparks of the stars; the ideal is the fire, the light that lights the hope.” In his youth, reciting Mr. Liu Shahe’s “ideal” can not help but be full of passion and emotion. When people look back at middle age, the masterpiece did not come out, the poet’s dream has long been done, and the word of ideal gradually faded away as the years went by. The truth of life is that there are old men who have small and oil salt cousins. The role of the job is to handle letters and visits by people’s congresses and people daily. Poetry has been indifferent, the ideal has long been the memory of Chayu drink.