少年，到远方去 毕业演讲稿

亲爱的同学们：

上午好！谢谢你们叫我回家，送别你们，鲜衣怒马，此间少年的你们，未来无远弗届的你们。和你们一样，我也见过红色跑道旁那排金黄金黄的银杏树，闻过生物园里如牛奶的栀子花香，青涩的笑声也吓跑过西墙角晒太阳的花猫。尽管如此，我们之间还是横亘着10多年的时光，银杏树，栀子花还在，只是，那只花猫是不是早已不在了？很多事情，和这只花猫一样，变了。

那时我们挂在嘴边的“理想”，是你们今天口中的“诗和远方”，既然成了远方，便是遥不可及吧。那时的我们豪情万丈，摩拳擦掌，被教导着，谨记着“民生在勤，勤则不匮”，今天的你们记住的却是“拼爹”“富二代”，流行的是“佛系”“巨婴”，习惯转发“锦鲤”祈求好运，或是指望科技进步，一切交给人工智能。

说出这些流行字眼，我忐忑不安，心惊胆战。什么时候，我们开始不再相信自己的双手？我多怕，怕你们已经浸淫其中，并且相信这便是生存之道，便是你们的真理和信仰。

如果，如果我们不知道什么才是正确，什么才是方向，那么不妨回头看看吧。

十年激战，千里狼烟中，赫克托耳似一尊雕塑屹立在晨风中，他回过头对守卫特洛伊绝望的战士说：“如果避而不战就能够永生不死，那么我也不愿冲锋在前。但是，人既然迟早要死，我们为何不拼死一战，反把荣誉让给别人？”试问，你怎么忍心？忍心放弃自己的双手，放弃亲力亲为，把未来和荣誉拱手让人？

如果你愿意，可以在某个黄昏去街巷走走，找到那个打称铺里的老师傅。他点起一盏灯，一毫一厘地刻着星戥，斤斤计较，只怕失之毫厘。系上秤砣，挂上秤盘，拿校物试着重，秤尾完美地平着，一寸不高，一寸不低，才能松一口气。他只相信自己的双手，这是必须誓死捍卫的权利。

谈何你死我活的战事，斤斤计较的称杆，哪怕是捏合饺子皮边，也要留下漂亮的指纹，才能算真正的美味呀。

你读过《诗经》吧，你听见了关关和鸣的雎鸠吗？你闻见了稻麦和泥土的香吗？感受到了镰刀齐口割下麦茬的神奇吗？这音乐声声，一代代咏于白露江边，舞于亭台月下，这是独属于中国文明的平和、安详和踏实。于是，我们看到，一群群荷着锄头，露水沾湿衣衫的人，在麦香中铸造着伟大，中国文化隆重登场，代代吟唱。

如果没有他们的双手，双脚，没有他们热烈的口舌和大脑，我该去哪里寻找如此美丽的山河？

于是，月光还是少年的月光，九州一色还是李白的霜；

于是，你走过的山路是徐霞客曾经丈量过的；行过的江畔是苏子瞻曾泛舟于上的；

于是，你驻足远眺的城楼是岳飞曾经坚定守卫过的；驰骋的草原是霍去病曾经为之奋战过的；

你知道吗？这才是中华文明如春水生发，生生不息的原因。

你说，这一切离你还是太远，那么，我说得再明白一点吧。

如果，你不曾体会街边绿色邮筒中给你送来的一封信笺时的喜悦；

如果，你依稀记得烛火下，机杼声声中微弯的背影；

如果，你仍贪恋嘴角残留的蒿团香，那是在江畔采青，剁青，揉青换来的美味……

那么，你该明白，有些事情，无法拱手让人。

亲爱的少年，你不该选择安逸，贪恋便捷，那就像背对着太阳而行，只看得见自己的影子。把所有的春光静好还给疏疏篱落，把所有的庸庸碌碌，懒惰不前归还给过去的自己吧。明天的你，要胸中有丘壑，立马振山河。

谢谢大家！

Dear students:

good morning! Thank you for calling me home, farewell to you, fresh clothes and angry horses, you young people here, and you who are far and wide in the future. Like you, I have also seen the golden ginkgo trees next to the red runway, smelled the milk-like fragrance of gardenias in the biological garden, and scare away the cats that bask in the sun in the west corner with their green laughter. Despite this, there are still more than 10 years between us. The ginkgo tree and the gardenia are still there, but is the cat already gone? Many things, like this tabby cat, have changed.

At that time, the "ideal" we talked about was what you call "poetry and distance" today. Since it has become a distant place, it is out of reach. At that time, we were full of pride, gearing up, and being taught, remembering that "people's livelihood is diligent, and diligence is not lacking", but today you remember "fight father" and "rich second generation", and the popular one is "Buddhism." "Giant babies" are accustomed to forwarding "koi" to pray for good luck, or to count on technological progress, and leave everything to artificial intelligence.

Saying these popular words makes me feel uneasy and frightened. When did we stop trusting our own hands? I am so afraid that you are already immersed in it and believe that this is the way to live, that is your truth and belief.

If, if we don't know what is right and what is the direction, let's look back.

Ten years of fierce fighting, in the smoke of thousands of miles of wolves, Hector stood like a statue in the morning wind. He turned his head and said to the desperate soldiers guarding Troy: "If you can live forever without fighting, then I don't want to charge in But, since people are going to die sooner or later, why don't we fight to the death and give the honor to others instead?" How can you bear it? Have the heart to give up your own hands, give up your own efforts, and surrender your future and honor to others?

If you want, you can walk the streets at dusk and find the old master in the weighing shop. He lit a lamp and engraved every inch of it with the stars. Fasten the weights, hang up the weighing pan, and try to weigh the school materials. The tail of the scale is perfectly flat, not an inch high, not an inch low, and you can breathe a sigh of relief. He only trusted his own hands, a right that must be defended to the death.

Talking about a life-and-death battle, you must weigh the poles carefully, even if you knead the edges of the dumpling skins, you must leave beautiful fingerprints in order to be considered truly delicious.

Have you read the "Book of Songs"? Have you heard Guan Guan Heming's Ju Dou? Have you smelled the aroma of rice and earth? Did you feel the magic of the sickle cutting the wheat stubble? The sound of this music has been sung by the Bailu River from generation to generation, and danced under the pavilion and under the moon. As a result, we saw a group of people with hoes and dew soaking their clothes, casting greatness in the fragrance of wheat, and Chinese culture made a grand debut and sang from generation to generation.

Without their hands and feet, without their passionate tongues and brains, where would I go to find such beautiful mountains and rivers?

Therefore, the moonlight is still the moonlight of the youth, and the Kyushu Ishiki is still the frost of Li Bai;

So, the mountain road you traveled was measured by Xu Xiake; the riverside you traveled was once boated by Su Zizhan;

So, the city tower you stopped and overlooked was once firmly guarded by Yue Fei; the galloping grassland was once fought for by Huo Qubing;

do you know? This is the reason why Chinese civilization grows like spring water and continues to thrive.

You say, all this is still too far away from you, then, let me make it clearer.

If you have not experienced the joy of a letter sent to you in the green mailbox on the street;

If, you vaguely remember the slightly curved back under the candlelight and the sound of the machine;

If you are still greedy for the aroma of wormwood left on the corner of your mouth, it is the deliciousness obtained by picking greens, chopping greens, and rubbing greens by the river...

Then, you should understand that some things cannot be handed over to others.

Dear young man, you should not choose comfort and greed for convenience, it is like walking with your back to the sun, only seeing your own shadow. Give back all the spring sunshine to Shushuliluo, and return all the mediocrity and laziness to the past self. Tomorrow, you must have hills and valleys in your chest, and immediately shake the mountains and rivers.

thank you all!