1. "Golden Flower"
Modern· Tagore
If I turned into a golden flower,
For fun,
Growing on the high branches of the tree,
swaying in the air with a smile,
dancing on the new leaves,
Mom,
Will you know me?
If you shout:
"Child,
where are you?"
I secretly hide my smile there,
But there was no sound.
I want to open the petals quietly,
watch you work.
After you take a bath,
wet hair is spread on your shoulders,
walk through the shade of golden flowers,
walk to When you pray in the small courtyard,
you will smell the fragrance of the flowers,
but you don’t know that the fragrance comes from me.
When you have had lunch,
sit in front of the window and read Ramayana,
The shadow of the tree falls on your hair and When you are on your lap,
I will cast my little shadow on the page of your book,
right where you are reading.
But would you guess that this is your child’s little shadow?
When you went to the cowshed with the lighted lamp in the evening,
I should suddenly drop to the earth again and
be yours again. My child, please tell me a story.
Please tell me a story.
"Where have you been,
you bad boy?"
"I won't tell you,
Mom."
This is what you and I wanted to say at that time.
2. "Oh, Mother"
Modern·Shu Ting
Your pale fingertips caress my temples
I I can't help but hold on to your skirt as I did when I was a child
Oh, mother
In order to keep your disappearing figure
< p>Although the morning light has cut the dream into smoke wispsI still dare not open my eyes for a long time
I still treasure the bright red scarf
For fear of raccoons Washing will make it lose your unique warmth
Oh, mother
The passage of time is also ruthless
I am afraid that the memory will also It fades the same
How dare I open its screen so easily
I once cried to you for a thorn
Now that I am wearing a crown of thorns, I will not Dare
Don’t dare to moan
Oh, mother
I often look up at your photo sadly
Even if the call can penetrate Loess
How dare I disturb your 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 thoughts
Not a torrent, not a waterfall
p>It is a dry well covered by flowers and trees that cannot sing