It is the communication and fusion of blood and pulse.
It is the blessing of the child and the pain of the mother.
mother love
Like the spring wind.
She gave it a gentle brush.
The earth will be green.
mother love
It is a cloud in the sky.
Always let the scorching sun
Go through her first.
Give the earth wind, rain and peace.
mother love
This is the sunset after the rain.
Always let the washed earth
Lying in your arms and never giving up.
Write colorful life dreams in the high sky.
......
Maternal love is the eternal theme of human beings.
We give it too many interpretations and too many connotations.
There is no soul-stirring historical epic, no shocking reversal of stormy waves, and a mother's love is like a spring rain, a clear song that moistens things silently for a long time.
Yu, a contemporary essayist, wrote in an article: "The starting point of all travelers is always to say goodbye to their mothers ... Their destination is the aging ... elderly people in their twilight years. It is impossible to cry for their mothers without moving people, and they cannot but cry for their return and wander."
Motherly love is the ultimate destination of wanderers and a clear spring that nourishes children's hearts. With the children sipping and sipping, it is endless. Therefore, the lingering maternal love is integrated into the children's laughter and tears.
Motherly love is like an idyll, far away and pure, elegant and light;
Motherly love is a landscape painting. Wash away the lead carving and leave it fresh and natural.
Motherly love is like a affectionate song, melodious and melodious, singing softly;
Motherly love is a warm wind, which blows away the snow and brings infinite spring.
Motherly love is a lifetime of laughter and a wandering yearning. Motherly love is the concern and anxiety of children before their sickbed. Motherly love is the ardent expectation of their children's growth.
When I think of my mother, my depression will turn into high emotions; When I think of my mother, wasting time will become great pride; When I think of my mother, the wandering wanderer will sprout the desire to go home; Thinking of my mother, my wandering heart found a home.
Time is like water, and the years are fleeting. How many memories disappear like water, but we have never changed our thoughts of our mother. The warbler goes to swallow, and the spring goes. Her face is getting older and her hair is as white as snow. The child is growing up day by day, but the mother is aging day by day. When the children see the white-haired mother in the high hall, they will jump into her arms and shed tears!
Motherly love is also the eternal theme of literature and music. Literati write articles on the topic of maternal love, moistening things silently; The musicians are mainly maternal love, and the tunes they play are soft and beautiful, with a long aftertaste.
The thread in the hand of a kind mother makes clothes for her wayward children. 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 has an inch of grass, and it is rewarded with three spring rays. " Meng Jiao, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, experienced ups and downs, poverty and sadness, but his mother's smile always lingered in his mind. Knowing his mother's future, he couldn't hide the smile on his face, couldn't restrain the joy in his heart, shook off the tired wind and frost on the top of his clothes, brushed away the dust accumulated in his heart, and took his wife and children to meet his mother outside Liyang City. Green grass, fragrant flowers, white clouds and clear rivers are filled with endless thoughts of my son. Mother and son depend on each other, with tears in their eyes, holding their mother's warm hand and looking at her old face. They couldn't help crying and were filled with emotion. Under Meng Jiao's pen, this poem "Ode to a Wanderer", full of maternal love, was melted and cast, sincere and profound, and passed down for thousands of years.
Du Fu, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, lived in exile all his life. After the Anshi rebellion, I returned to my hometown, and the countryside was deserted, and things were different. Bitter and sad, seeing things hurt the body, he combined the feelings of worrying about the country and the people with the feelings of missing his mother, and wrote a touching Homelessness. "Forever pain long sick mother, five years committee ditch creek. I was born weak and sour about life. Life is homeless, why steam! " The words are sad and sad enough to make people feel generous and shed tears for generations.
At the end of the Eastern Han Dynasty, Cai Wenji was taken captive to Xiongnu by mutinous soldiers and left his hometown, and Wan Li fled. When they were redeemed by China's envoy, the mother and son said goodbye, tears filled their eyes, and relatives and friends said goodbye, which made them sad. She wrote in Poems of Mourning Anger: "I have freed my life, so I should abandon my son. Heaven belongs to composers, and there is no meeting time for reading ... no. Crying hands caress when you answer doubt. " Sad, sad, sad voice, it makes people cry. People in the Tang dynasty once wrote Hu Jia's songs on this topic, which seemed to cry rather than cry, and a strong feeling of mother and son permeated the tune.
Maternal love is great and selfless. It immerses everything and fills the space between heaven and earth.
With maternal love, mankind will move from desolation to the prosperity of civilization; With maternal love, society moves from indifference and severity to peace and well-being; With maternal love, we move from melancholy to singing, from stupidity to wisdom; With maternal love, there will be the beginning of life, the continuation of history, the germination of reason and the return of human nature.
No reason
Just for our parents.
Our parents have worked hard for us all their lives.
But now
they
But I'm lonely
My parents are ill.
But nobody cares.
My parents miss us.
But no children came home.
at present
they
Watch it every day
Missing every night
Have you ever imagined it?
every day
They stood at the entrance to the village.
Look at us in the distance.
No reason
Just for our parents.
Just because we often go home.
this present life
Yu Guangzhong
My most forgetful cry was twice.
Once, at the beginning of my life.
Once, at the end of your life.
The first time, I won't remember, I listened to you.
The second time, you don't know. It's no use telling me.
But in two cries.
Laughter is endless.
again and again
Here we go again.
Reverberated for thirty years.
You know, I remember.
Motherly love is like a magnificent sea, an endless blue sky, an endless grassland and a lush forest. It is rolling, spreading, growing and flourishing, like a long river of history, endless and vigorous.