The poem Bing Xin wrote to her father is as follows:
"Love": Father, these two so dignified words explain all the feelings in the world and solidify every love. Engraved. Father, such a affectionate title, is full of hardships in life, and the years have passed by on our shoulders. Father, it is you who use your rough hands to smooth the vicissitudes of time for your children, and it is you who use your heavy feet to smooth out the marks of life for your children.
Father, you are the one who has no regrets in your youth. You write the unpretentious life with your passion, and you measure it with your plain footprints. Father, your love is a wordless monument; Father, your love is a wordless history of poetry; Father, no matter what angle you look at, you need to look up. Because this is the height of father's love.
"Admonitions": I am used to your exhortations, that warm haven, the home for spiritual healing, the soaring reverie of children in the meticulous care, the ignorance of frivolity and stubbornness, the satisfaction of rainbow-like splendor... ... I have heard a lot of rumors, wondering about your thinking space, what kind of concept of life is it a responsibility or a game, or is it just an interpretation of the feasting of youth in the film industry.
When your back is like a giant bow, sweating and melting into the hot earth, ignoring the burning flames, full of joyful expectations but leaving behind strings of sighs. In the wilderness of green grass, echoing in the setting sun at night, the smoke under the solitary lamp speaks a sincere confession. The helpless emotions and the haggard eyes were all engraved with profound memories, and I suddenly realized that I had never sang a song for you when I came.
The way of father's love, the annual rings that travel through time, the river that spans the years, confuses the loyal and watery eyes, making the dream bitter and sweet... Living is the gratitude of fate, and death is also the interpretation of the doting of the previous life. .