Author: (Qing) Zhou Shouchang
The robe is still there and the collar is still warm.
I can't bear to take it lightly when sewing again, and there are old thread marks of loving mothers on it.
Bai Juyi's "Selected Poems of Yan"
Imagine yourself as a young day, flying high and carrying your mother.
At that time, my parents thought that I should know today.
Jiang Shiquan's Home at the End of the Year
I love my son endlessly, and I'm glad to go home.
Cold clothes are needle and thread, and letters from home are ink stains.
If you encounter pity, you will ask for it.
I am ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh.
Barcos de papel
-Send Mother Bing Xin
I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-Save it,
Folding into a very small boat,
Throw it into the sea from the boat.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I am still not discouraged, folding every day,
I always hope that a person can only flow where I want him to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that he dreams for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wan Shui Qian Shan begged him to take her love and sorrow home.