An encounter in London led to the creation of the Irish poet William Butler. Butler? Yeats. He met Malcolm Gunn at the age of twenty-three. Gunn, just nine days together began Yeats' life-long love wounds, but also opened a chapter of moving love poetry. More than a hundred years later, lovers are still searching for the gospel of love in Yeats's poems. Times keep changing, the roar of chariots and horses' hooves have been buried in the yellow earth, but the aftermath of that passionate love still reverberates and trembles in everyone's heart. At that time Ye Zhi did not know whether he would be lucky enough to meet the woman in front of him again in the future, and could only stare at her closely, longing to engrave this face into the deepest part of his soul. Fervent love will almost burn him into ashes, into a sigh of smoke. Later, Yeats spent the rest of his life courting Malcolm Gunn. Gunn, but failed to realize his desire. The thorns of love wrapped around Yeats's heart, and blood flowed from the thorns in every poem he wrote for Malcolm Gunn. Gunn's poems. Malcolm Gunn said the world would not be grateful to her. Gunn once said that the world would thank her for not marrying Yeats. These almost cruel words speak to the true meaning of the ever-burning passion in Yeats's poetry.
It is said that time is the Achilles' heel of love, and that marriage is the coffin in which its corpse is preserved, a long way from the eventual sprinkling of a handful of mourning dirt. This is arbitrary, but trivial life does blunt the light of love, let it from the bright stars into a common stone. But love's fickle grin can strip its essence of the shackles of life. As Wilde wrote to his lover during his trial, "Joy hides love, but pain reveals its essence." Intense love allowed him to turn the sour and bitter waters of prison into agar, soothing the wounds of his loneliness. His weeping was accompanied by joy. Prison and exile were like a fire that consumed him, leaving in the ashes a crystal heart that still yearned for love. Even though his love kept hurting him and turning his back on him, he still thirsted for love, he couldn't ask the world to accept him, but he could easily push open the door to love. The boy destroyed his life, and he loved him all the more for it. Even if it was destined to be a tragedy, he threw himself into it. He had the madness of love, you laughed at him, scolded him, threw him into hell, love can still bloom in his heart.
"Jeux d'en fants 2003" (Two Little Guesses) is such a love story intertwined with pain and joy. It's pure, simple, flawless, passionate from start to finish, and destined to burn to death. Don't try to make moral and ethical out of it, love is the cruelest executioner when it comes to marriages and couples that are no longer in love. It is "a beautiful tyrant, an angelic devil, an evil saint, a solemn traitor, a beautifully bound book of evil". Once upon a time, Ms. Ann left the man who was willing to go through fire for her, jumped into the arms of the gorilla, and wrote a crazy declaration of love across the centuries in front of the astonished eyes of the public. In real life, "King Kong" is a fairy tale, but in a collection of crazy stories about love, it's just a page out of the book.
Sophie and Julian's first encounter is a mixture of shame and anger. Sophie is bullied by her classmates, who call her a "Polish pig"; Julien refuses to accept the fact that his mother is seriously ill. A small bet solves all the problems and creates an oasis in the desert of life. They are more than willing to make bold moves, say shocking things, and do things that are not age-appropriate. A seriously ill mother bets Julian that she can fly, and she wins, at the cost of her life. Sophie and Julien have been making bets all their lives, bets that have brought them close and have been a shield that has deterred them from love. For it is easy to hide the stirrings and insecurities of the heart in the overly dazzling circus fireworks. Gambling is the clown's costume, the colorful clothes bring joy and hide the reality under the oil paint.
When little Julian was crying over his mother's death, Sophie appeared above the grave with a wreath of flowers, clad in the bright light of heaven, humming the tune of "La Vie en Rose", blowing the fragrance of spring to the cemetery and dispelling the gloom of death. Julian smiled, with tears in his eyes. His little heart did not know where the warmth of happiness came from. By throwing a daisy to the grave, Sophie had sown the seed of love, a seed that meandered along the mysterious river of life, so that no one could see where it would flow in the future and what kind of tree it would grow into. Since their mother's passing, they had slept in the same bed, each at either end, an intimate distance that seemed to foretell that they would always be at arm's length in the pursuit of love, interacting at the poles of their emotions. And their subsequent journey of love is indeed either love or pain, either laughter or crying. Sophie does not dare to say love first, afraid of Julian that this is just a game; Julian does not dare to express his inner feelings, imprisoned in self-reproach and cowardice, he still does not understand the heart of the happiness of the warm current is love, or just a ridiculous gamble brought about by the pleasure. He could only chase after the car, letting the confession of love drown in the rumble of the wheels.
Their relationship progressed to a whole new level when the grown-up Sophie strutted into school with her underwear over her clothes. Where once they were kids trying to be adults, now they are adults stuck in childhood forever. The gamble was as addictive as any other, and they were tainted with the same vices as other gamblers - the desire to win over love. In fact, all they had to do was to embrace each other into their arms and they would be happy ever after, but they just wanted to win, they wanted to fight to be the tyrant in love, to fight to be upstream, to overcome love. So, Sophie said that he could never break her heart, he just preferred to go through the trouble of stabbing her heart. He dared to pull down his pants in public, dared to retrieve the carousel box from under the speeding car; she dared to stand in front of the roaring train, dared to retrieve the carousel box from the bottom of the cold river; they dared to do, they can do anything, but no one dared to say "I love you". The crazier their behavior is, the more they are too cowardly to look up in front of love. They are two clumsy actors on the stage of love, unable to speak their inner lines, so they have to use exaggerated body language to cover up their panic; they are also like the beasts that have been stabbed in the toes by the pine branches, and they can't express the hidden pain of shame with their roaring and violent voices. The overweight and overpowering love was almost crushing them both to death.
It took Julian four years to get back at Sophie for her rejection, and Sophie ten years to get back at Julian for his heartlessness and withdrawal. As Julien says, they are Jean? Racine's tragic characters, imprisoned in a cycle of incessant revenge to taste the bitter fruit of love. In Iphigenia, Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia for the expedition to Troy. Clytemnestra, the mother, harbored a grudge and ten years later murdered Agamemnon in conjunction with her lover. Their son Orestes, in order to avenge his father's death, killed his mother and was pursued by the goddess of vengeance for the rest of his life. People in love with each other were teased by fate, and could only murder each other, humiliate and torture each other in all kinds of ways. In the end, like the disheartened Julian, he plunges into a boring and happy life with no choice. At thirty-five, he was already a successful family man, surrounded by a home loan and an unchanging job, driving an emblematic car with a top speed of over 200 mph under the sixty mph speed limit, picking up the phone again and again but not daring to talk to his father, whom he had not seen in ten years. He hadn't forgotten for a moment about Sophie, who was already the wife of the nation's most famous ballplayer, living in a mansion and driving a sports car, leaving Julian and the past behind in a different world. He calls himself a male version of Camille, abandoned by Rodin, his talent destroyed, and he spends the rest of his life in a psychiatric hospital. Yes, the world without Sophie is one big, boring asylum, where everyone is dull and boring, no one strikes a love chord with him, and nothing drives him crazy. Except for Sophie. Both of them, when they were separated, could actually have their own free and happy lives, with a partner who loved, tolerated, and spoiled them. But he still couldn't be satisfied. You can't blame people for being greedy; if you've ever seen angels take off, planets spinning in their tracks, rivers pounding and moaning, skies bursting and erupting, if you've ever fallen madly in love with someone, you can't get used to a life of peace and tranquility again. Everything loses its light, and everywhere is a mess of traces of having been burned by love.
"Can you make a bride cry at her wedding? Can you laugh when you're sad? Can you go ten years without speaking?" Almost reaching the limit of his waiting, Julian questioned the child who was as young as he once was, and the self who never grew up. At thirty-five, he was still a child, but couldn't open his eyes to see Sophie smiling at him. Then, the carousel box appears to start the game again. Cue the fateful camera looking down on Julien as he drives his car towards Sophie's house and watches his heart race towards her once more. Upon getting into the game again, being chased by a group of police cars and speeding down the highway, "that volcanic eruption was better than any feeling, not even getting high, better than LSD happy pills, better than the Star Wars trilogy, better than landing on the moon and Santa Claus, better than all the wealth in the world, better than freedom, better than life." Welcome once again to the playground of love, to enjoy lingering heartfelt songs, to sing wordless psalms, to kiss life, two hundred times sweeter! This string is that string's intimate lover, And the two strings once more ensemble, Proudly quoting and singing, Flying from the gloomy earth into the clouds.
They retaliated against the vagaries of fate with death's everlasting adherence to each other, against the fourteen years of light that had kept them apart. They won the final victory and love from the hands of life.