Ginkgo, I miss you. I don’t understand why you are also called Gongsun Shu. But most people call you Ginkgo, which is understandable. You cannot exist in nature, but you still stand tall, singing the triumph of human beings in space. You are an oriental sage, you are a living monument of Chinese culture, you can only be found in China, and most people don’t seem to understand it. I have been to Japan, Japan has you, but you are obviously an overseas Chinese in Japan. Chinese culture has existed in Japan for as long as you have lived in Japan.

But not because you are a specialty of China, but because you are beautiful, true, and kind. How straight your stems are, how vigorous your branches are, how green, clean, and tender your fan leaves are! In summer, how many temples have you put on towering cloud crowns, and how many working people have been covered with cool canopies.

Although the phoenix tree has your straight end, it is not as strong as yours; the poplar is lush but not solemn. The smoky wind will charm you, and the birds will come and sing to you; the gods of God — if there are gods of God, I believe they will come to the party at your feet whenever the moon is clear. Autumn is here, the butterflies are dead, your green leaves will turn golden and the butterflies will fly out of the garden.

Are you not a clever magician? But you don’t have that quack aura that makes people hide their noses at all. When you are free from everything, and your branches are propped up in space, you are not ashamed of cold wind, frost and snow.

You have no attitude of accommodating yourself, but you are not desperate; your virtues are as barren as music, but you are not proud; your taboo seems to be “detachment”. You care about all the vegetation, you care about everything, but you don’t hide.

Is not your fruit nourishing, and your woody and sturdy equipment, or your fallen leaves good fuel for a fire? But I’m a little weird: it’s weird that everyone in China seems to have forgotten you for a long time, as if since ancient times. I can’t find your name in Chinese classics. I seldom see poems praising you by Chinese poets, nor paintings depicting you by Chinese painters.

What exactly is going on? You are the eternal witness of Chinese culture. Don’t you think it’s weird? Ginkgo, the Chinese people have forgotten you. Although everyone is eating your ginkgo and likes to eat your ginkgo, they really forgot about you. There are people who can’t tell the difference in the world, but there has never been an example of forgetting you for such a long time.