"Mother"
Your pale fingertips caress my temples
I can't help but caressing my temples as tightly as I did when I was a child
Holding on to your skirt
Oh, mother
To keep your disappearing figure
Although the morning light has cut the dream into wisps of smoke
I still dare not open my eyes for a long time
I still treasure that bright red scarf
I am afraid that washing it will make it lose its uniqueness to you
The warmth
Oh, mother
The passage of time is also ruthless
I am afraid that the memory will also fade
How dare I easily Open its screen
For a thorn I once cried to you
Now wearing a crown of thorns, I dare not
Not a single moan< /p>
Oh, mother
I often look up at your photos sadly
Even if the call can penetrate the loess
How dare I alarm you? Sleep
I dare not display the sacrifices of love like this
Although I have written many songs
To the flowers, to the sea, to the dawn
Oh, mother
My sweet and deep yearning
It is not a torrent, not a waterfall
It is impossible to sing among the flowers and trees. dry well