I want a master to write a modern poem for my parents.

Sixteen spring and autumn years have passed

The pain still makes my heart palpitate

The lightning of memories

Always cut the dream into Smoke wisps

See the swaying reed flowers again

Light up the candlelight of my childhood

I seem to hear your warm advice

< p>Like the dew in the morning

Drop by drop

Thirty-eight winters and summers

Looking at the grass in despair

Don’t dare to easily Tell me what I miss

Afraid of the knife of the past

Separate my liver and gallbladder again (1)

How can you bear to see me in pain

How can you bear to see me cry

Remember the heavy rain in my childhood

I was just a toddler

But I went to the west of the village to pick you up

You held me in your arms

Say, the value of raising a child is actually here

5,700 days and nights, I don’t know how many sets of footprints I know

I wonder if mother and son can meet in another latitude

Poverty at home

Is like a small fish that cannot be caught

Waiting to be fed< /p>

They are your four children

So many heavy loads

None of them have bent your back

Until one day< /p>

You can no longer stand up (2)

Fifty-one years old

This is another blooming season of life

Who expected us All I hear is the miserable wind and bitter rain

I really want to be like my childhood

take you home again

Even if In fact, it was actually you who picked me up

How nice it would be if we walked a long way together

You said you wanted to see old Beijing

Because You have never been so far away

In the early spring of 2008

I finally took you to Beijing

Although, I could only lie down On the bed

You can only stand in the clouds

Twelve passes of life and death (3)

Mother and son watch over you for six months

You The sadness

is enough to make every apricot blossom fall

Your entrustment

makes every moonlight fall apart

So much The haggard night

has turned into your coat covering my body

I call you over and over again

Mom, mom!

Actually, I really miss you!

I know how a small wooden house that is only one foot wide (4)

can hold so many of your thoughts

I know the one in the Chrysanthemum Plum Garden On the magnolia flower (5)

It is covered with your heavy sighs

The earthen bed you burned

It is still hot after sixteen years

The paper kite you built for me thirty years ago

Why can’t it fly

That dry river

used to flow We have had so many laughs

The little angel who always gets the first place in the exam

is the granddaughter you have never met

The three feet of thick loess

Is it the glass that I can smash with my gaze

That black stone tablet

It is also the font in my childhood exercise book (6)

p>

Even if the flames can lick eight hands at the same time (7)

The only one chatting with you in the middle of the night is Wu Tiao

What is a close relative of flesh and blood

What is dependence of life and death?

What is endless nostalgia

What is endless memories

They all turned into what I have been doing for sixteen years. Lines of poetry written

Live well. I am in your eyes every day (8)

How can we forget each other. There is a day when you are not in my dreams

[Notes: (1) Hepatobiliary resection: I had a gallbladder removal operation in 2003, and it hurt. Now it seems that nothing is as painful as missing my mother.

(2) I can no longer stand up: My mother worked hard all her life and never spoke of her suffering. It wasn't until I couldn't stand up anymore that I found out I had terminal cancer.

(3) Twelve critical points of life and death: While I was hospitalized in Beijing, my life was in danger twelve times. I had an illusion that my mother was by my side, encouraging me to overcome the disease.

(4) One-foot-long cabin: This refers to the mother’s urn.

(5) Magnolia in the Jumei Garden: The hospital where I live has a big garden called the Jumei Garden. Once in the rain, my relatives picked me a dripping magnolia and told me that spring was coming. But I thought the drops of water on the magnolia were my mother's tears.

(6) The font on the homework book: The inscription on my mother’s tombstone is written by me. When I was a child, my mother often taught me to write well and checked my homework, so I wrote well.

(7) It hurt my eight hands to be licked: The four of us, my sister and I, once went to burn paper on our mother’s grave. The flames made all eight of our hands hurt. Don't cry when we meet. But in the end, the eldest sister couldn't help crying and we cried together.

(8) In your eyes: I still remember the look in my mother’s eyes before she died. No matter how far I go, I can’t get out of my mother’s eyes. ]

Postscript: After I finished writing the modern poem for my mother, I suddenly remembered that my mother didn’t like Qilu. She liked long and short sentences (my mother didn’t like to call Song lyrics) and children’s songs the most. Therefore, I don’t need to write it again in the two styles my mother liked during her lifetime.

Long and short sentences: "Long-lasting Love"

The sea water is thick, the tears are thick, and when the thickness becomes sparse, the hatred does not stop. Missing relatives and mourning autumn at night.

The mother is also worried, and the son is also worried. Worry turns to joy, and life and death end.

The reed flowers also grow old!

Children's song: "I am a little tabby cat"

Meow meow meow, meow meow meow

I am a little tabby cat

My mother loved me since childhood

I often hugged my mother's waist

My mother caught mice for me

Feeded me again and again

Ask me if it tastes good?

I said, it’s so good, so good, so good.

Mom, I want more tomorrow!

Meow meow, meow meow,

I am a tabby cat

My mother is already old

I also hold her Mother's waist

I catch mice for my mother

Feed her more often

Also ask if it tastes good?

Mom said, it’s so good, so good, so good.

It’s a pity that I can’t eat it anymore!