Copy it, and be careful:
straw hat
■ Liu Defu
The July sun is scorching the earth, mom!
Wet and dry, light and heat, love and bitterness are all concentrated on you.
Mom, at this moment, I am sitting in an air-conditioned office, but I feel sad. You and I are both from there.
The barren yellow land is now running in different worlds, and my life comes from the touch of your broad palm. Now, you are still working hard on that land, mom, why do you have to shoulder the responsibility of rest? Maybe the world is in your eyes, so it should be. That kind of work facing the loess and facing the sky is a doomed way of life. I struggled to escape from that life, mom, what is life? Is it a memory after the escape? When I advised you to leave the land and change your straw hat into a parasol in the city, you said it was fate.
The bright sunshine is outside the window, cicadas are noisy outside the window, and my heart is burning outside the window. Mom, this is where I run around and live? At this time, what you need to resist the heat is a straw hat, which is the cheapest straw. The edges are broken and the folds are covered with dirt. Black is like your vicissitudes. You left your love to me, and you said that your son is happy and your mother is happy. One day, when you walked through the sunshine for decades, I whispered at the end of the field, Mom, you have worked hard-there are green patches and a cool breeze.
Mom, why is your life so persistent? Originally, I had the conditions not to let you work and enjoy a leisurely life at home. And you said, I'm used to working, and I feel uneasy when I leave the land. At this moment, my skin stretches in the cold air, my blood flows in my mind, and my tendon twitches like a stab wound. Mom, did you have a good time in your hometown?
Fate has sent me to an enviable height, mom. Is this what you think of happiness? When I walked to the distant road of wandering, the hand you waved at the entrance of the village was blurred. That is a big hand that has been working rough all the year round, holding my weak and timid hand in the field many years ago! Now, your eyes, your prayers and your love are all thousands of miles away, and I can only be in a hot foreign land, remembering the straw hat I once wore on my son's head and basking in the sinister sun.
Mom, is your son's coolness your shadow?
All the memories fade away, and all the past events are like the wind blowing through vilen. Your straw hat in the hot sun, like a flag, will always be in my son's heart and float in my veins. That's my boat. The straw hat is real, the straw hat is fake, and the straw hat left everything in my memory, mom!
The mountain is too far away. This summer, I can't go back to my hometown fields. I also wear a straw hat, rushing to meet you on the crops, smelling the eternal fragrance.
The philosophy that the straw hat gave me can run through my life, mom!