Small and immortal

More than two thousand years ago, there was a little poet whose name the dust of history has wiped away, but whose immortal lines cannot be covered: Fire in July, clothe in September. The moment of a Hyrfa, the moment of a Hyrfa. No clothes no brown, how pawns! Three is credited with the plow and four is credited with the plow. Son with my wife, Ye he nan mu. Tian jovial.

How many years, how many children as the poet wrote, arable land, weaving clothes. In the long night, looking forward to the busy dawn, dew, dew on clothes, clothes, willing to do nothing against, leaving a small and immortal ripple in the long river of history.

But now, more than two thousand years later, with the progress of The Times, we forget about labor; Now, more than two thousand years later, we have no time for labor; Today, more than two thousand years later, we have artificial intelligence to do the work for us; Now, more than two thousand years later, we are stranded on an island called idleness in the midst of an ocean of material abundance; Now, more than two thousand years later, we have to rely on the labor of others, themselves atrophy in the corners of life, and laugh at the glorious workers. Today I am here to make a speech, and I want to express my own feelings.

I have also noticed that in today's society, there are those who work hard, those who are lazy, those who love workers, and those who do not respect them.

Hard-working people, there is a natural labor, busy in morningside, and wear the month on the way home. To know, early in the morning is still sleeping in the modern city, is the cleaner woke up, put on a mask, brandishing a broom, tired sitting on the roadside, from the bosom touch out the remaining temperature of the breakfast, look at the corner, listen to the wind.

Students and teachers, coincidentally went to school, in front of the loud sound of books, waiting for the first ray of sunshine in the morning. The workers climbed on the crane and the farmers piled firewood.

Industry is so common.

People who love labor have a detachment from labor. When Tao Yuanming removed the weeds in the garden, took a hoe, wiped away the sweat, picked chrysanthemums in Dongli and planted beans in Nanshan, as leisurely as birds, as detached as clouds.

Labor for them, not tired of running, but no longer means small and ordinary, they enjoy labor, enjoy this ancient tradition, in this, there is a kind of unspeakable true temperament, hard to give up, difficult to distinguish again.

Diligence is so uncommon.

People who respect labor have a reverence for labor. They can stand in awe of the street sweeper, stop their car and wait for them to sweep the road in front of them instead of honking their horns. The ability to stand in awe of waiters and waitresses and wait for them to bring food instead of drinking and pointing fingers; To be able to say "thank you" to an unknown worker instead of passing by.

Diligence deserves respect.

Students, teachers, today, at this moment, I want to say to you: although in the era of science and technology developed, we have artificial intelligence, but humans still small, will have a try, but deathless my renown RongLe also just enjoy life, real immortal, is a pair of industrious hands, use it to work, to create, will be small to immortality.

Thank you very much.