Chapter one: Praise my father's love for great modern poetry when he was a child.
I ran ahead.
You follow behind.
fail
I am the one who is injured, and you are the one who is injured.
I still remember carrying it on my still strong shoulders.
It's so peaceful.
after school
I write under the lamp.
You shake your fan.
weary
I am cold, and you are hot.
I still remember those eyes that are still young.
Is so kind
after marriage
Grandson ran ahead.
You and I are in the back.
fail
It was he who hurt, but I was scolded.
I still remember the already weak figure sprinting.
Is so anxious
at present
You stumble along.
I feel sad in the back.
Your vicissitudes of silver hair are no longer black.
Your rickety body is no longer tall and straight.
Your cloudy eyes are no longer bright
Your vague words are no longer fluent.
I still remember that painful groan in the middle of the night.
Afraid of waking us up.
You are the one who got hurt, and I am the one who shed tears.
My old father?
Chapter two: Modern poetry praises the greatness of father's love and always thinks of men's feelings.
Is it iron, stone or mountain?
The same feeling
No tenderness, no elegy.
Have no feelings for children
That year, I resolutely set foot on the train going north.
Stay and sing all the way.
I thought I had got rid of the shackles.
You can wander in my dreams.
Now I feel the feeling of a man
Is it water, sea or Wang Yang?
This is silent love
Not very in love.
No tearful eyes
Now I look north at my hometown.
Only sorrow and wine.
Flowing in each other's hearts
Stop the breeze
Ask what love is.
Recall the feelings after more than ten years.
Second, hurt feelings
Sigh with a cup
A few years later
You can feel my love.
I choked, too
Chapter 3: Praise my father's love for great modern poetry. Spring has come.
When the peach blossoms are in full bloom
I hold my father.
Walking in the Peach Blossom Corridor
Listen to my father's philosophical words.
When summer comes,
When the lotus is in full bloom
I followed dad.
Standing by the lotus pond
Look into dad's deep eyes.
When autumn comes.
When chrysanthemums are in full bloom
I took my father's hand.
Squat by the chrysanthemum basin
Feel my father's deep love.
When autumn comes.
When plum blossoms smile
I grabbed my father's arm.
Swimming in front of the plum tree
Know the warmth in my father's heart
When my father likes flowers.
I became the happiest person.
Chapter four: Praise my father's love for great modern poetry when he was a child.
Father is a mountain.
Magnificent, tall, bright and lovely?
Trolley, abacus, swing, table?
Wooden, with his loving hands
Create a masterpiece
Sawwood ignited a raging fire.
Adults enjoy it.
Talk about everything and have a good drink.
The child is holding his chin.
Like chewing candy, childish face.
Blooming with a happy smile
Grid-free era
Warm the winter night.
grow up to an adult
Father is a hill in the mountains.
Fog pervaded the whole mountain.
It's the tears my father cares about.
Look at the end of heaven
A foggy and rainy shabby home
This is a feeling that he will never give up.
Has been covered with sad weeds
Swaying in the autumn wind
Deep fatherly love.
Figure, laughter, singing.
And the creaking of the carpenter's room
Embedded in the photo wall of my childhood.
Time will pass.
Your love is a memory that I will never erase.
My deep fatherly love
Your daughter
Fall, roll, climb all the way
I've read about your power.
Into an indomitable cedar.
Will you rest in peace?
Looking through the mountains of autumn water