The foot of my bed is shining so brightly,
Is there frost already? .
Looking up, I found it was moonlight.
I sank again and suddenly remembered home.
Thinking in Quiet Night-Li Bai
There is a pool of light by my bed-
Is it frost on the ground?
I looked up and saw the moon,
I looked down and thought of home.
A traveler's song
Meng Jiao
The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son.
Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.
But how much love can keep this inch of grass from growing and pay for the sunshine? .
A traveler's song
Meng Jiao
The thread in the loving mother's hand
Make clothes for her wayward boy's body;
She sewed it carefully, mended it thoroughly,
Afraid that the delay would make him come home late.
But how much love does an inch of grass have?
Three spring sunshine?
Bing Xin, paper boat-for mom
I never throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-save it.
Fold into a boat,
Throw it into the sea from the boat.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I still don't give up and fold every day.
I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason.
This is your beloved daughter's tearful folding, Wanshui Qian Shan.
Ask it to bring her love and sadness home.
Paper boat-for mom
moral integrity
Never want to waste a piece of paper,
I keep saving money.
Then fold them into very, very small boats.
Throw them into the sea from my boat.
Some were blown back into the porthole,
Others were trapped in the stern, soaked by the waves,
And I, not discouraged, continue to fold and hope.
That one will finally reach its destination.
Oh, mom, if you see a little white sail in your dream,
Don't be frightened by its unexpected appearance.
Your dear daughter folded this and took it home.
Across the oceans and mountains, her love and sadness.
homesickness
Yu Guangzhong
In childhood
Homesickness is a small stamp.
I'm at this end
Mom is over there.
When I grow up
Homesickness is a narrow ticket.
I'm at this end
The bride is over there.
We'll talk about it later.
Homesickness is a low grave.
I am outside
Mom's inside.
But now
Homesickness is a shallow strait.
I'm at this end
The mainland is over there
homesickness
When I was a child,
Nostalgia seems to be a small stamp:
"I am here.
This is my mother. "
Then when I grew up,
Nostalgia has become a travel ticket;
"I am here.
This is my bride. "
In the next few years,
Nostalgia becomes a graveyard:
"I am here.
There is my mother. "
Now at present
Nostalgia has gradually become a channel:
"I am here.
On my mainland! "
I'm trying very hard. I hope to give points. )