Prose poems written by my father
Original song: Xu Fei
Lyrics:
These crops were not harvested in 1984.
My son is lying in my arms, sleeping so soundly.
There is no time to see an open-air movie tonight.
My wife reminded me to repair the pedal of the sewing machine.
I'm going to borrow more money from my neighbor tomorrow.
The child cried all day, clamoring for biscuits.
The blue polyester coat broke my heart.
Squatting by the pond, I punched myself hard.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is his legacy from his youth.
Prose poems left behind
Years later, I watched tears flow down.
My father is getting old.
In 1994,
The crops have been harvested.
My old mother died last year.
My son ran into the campus in a white shirt.
But he has lightened his mind a lot recently.
Think about the future.
I will always be a pile of old paper money.
At that time, my son was already a real man.
A lovely girl became a family with him.
I wish they wouldn't live so hard.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is the legacy of his life.
Prose poems left behind
Years later
I watched the tears flow down.
But my father is old.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is the legacy of his life.
Prose poems left behind
Years later
I watched the tears flow down.
But my father is like an old newspaper in the wind.
This is the footprint left by that generation.
After several storms, the traces will be erased.
This land once made me cry.
But how many sad memories did it bury?