Yu Guangzhong, listen to the cold rain. Change it to poetry.

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.

Later,

Homesickness is a short grave.

I'm outside,

Mom and both are in it.

now

Homesickness is a shallow strait,

I'm at this end,

The mainland is over there