Mountains are heavy and water is heavy
Day after year
The road back home
How many mountains are there and how many waters
p>
I can still see it vividly in my mind
But it is so far away
Every time I miss my return date
I have wasted my time
p>
Under the low eaves
Mother’s stooped body
Under the setting sun
In the dim dusk
Tears filled the eaves
Then the rainy season came
It rained all the way to my wandering sky
My mother’s lifelong expectations
In the corner of her eyes
In her tattered sleeves
In her gray temples
In her cough
Now
My mother is getting old
Just like the coptis tree at the door of my house
It has been bitter for a lifetime
But I don’t know it< /p>
In a dream
I am a small patch on her sleeve
Day and night
I am willing to be gentle for her Erasing the muddy tears