Lyrics of Prose Poems Written by Father 1 Prose Poems Written by Father-Li Nan
Production: He Chuan
In 1984
The crops have not been harvested yet.
My son lies in my arms.
Sleep so soundly
Tonight's open-air movie
There's no time to watch.
My wife reminded me
Repair sewing machine pedal
I'm going to borrow more money from my neighbor tomorrow.
The child cried all day.
Make a fuss about eating cookies
Blue polyester coat
The pain goes straight to the heart.
Squatting by the pond without mercy.
I punched myself twice.
This is from my father's diary.
This is his legacy from his youth.
Prose poems left behind
Years later, I watched tears flow down.
My father is getting old.
Like a shadow ...
In 1994,
The crops have been harvested.
My old mother last year.
Left the world
My son is wearing a white shirt.
Run into the campus
But he has something on his mind recently.
I lost a big circle.
Think about the future.
I will always be a pile of old paper money.
At that time, my son had already
real man
There is a lovely girl.
Established a home with him.
I hope they are.
Don't live so hard.
This is from my father's diary.
This is the legacy of his life.
Prose poems left behind
Years later, I watched tears flow down.
My father is getting old.
Like a shadow ...
This is from my father's diary.
This is the legacy of his life.
Prose poems left behind
Years later, I watched tears flow down.
But my father is missing.
Like an old newspaper. ...
This is the footprint left by that generation.
After several storms.
Erase traces
This land once made me cry.
How many people did it bury?
Sad past
Heavy air defense weapon ......
Heavy air defense weapon ......
Heavy air defense weapon ......
Heavy air defense weapon ......
Lyrics of prose poems written by Xu Fei for his father II.
Lyrics: Dong
These crops were not harvested in 1984.
My daughter 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 twice.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is his legacy from his youth.
Prose poems left behind
Decades later, I watched the tears flow.
But my father is old.
In 1994,
The crops have been harvested.
My old mother died last year.
My daughter ran into the campus with a ponytail.
But she has been a little lonely recently and lost a lot of weight.
Think about the future.
I will always be a pile of old paper money.
Daughters at that time will be very beautiful.
A man who loves her wants to take her home.
But I can't bear to look at her when I think about it.
This is my father.
The words in the diary
This is the legacy of his life.
Prose poems left behind
Decades later
I watched the tears flow down.
But my father is as old as an old newspaper.
old newspaper
The story above is a lifetime.