My Father's Prose Poetry is a cooperative work with the famous poet Dong. It was performed live in the variety show "The King of Poetry". The poet picked up the fragments of his father's diary into words, and Xu Fei, who was deeply moved, carefully composed music for it, connecting the deep love and responsibility of his father to his children with the notes, and the helpless interpretation of his children when they realized that his father was getting old with the passage of time.
After the live performance, the audience and netizens burst into tears. Xu Fei, who has been obsessed with this song for a long time, took Father's Day as an opportunity, rearranged the recording, and released the time version of "Prose Poems Written by Father".
The whole song has no flowery words, but the most real life scene description. The unpretentious writing touches people's hearts, but it is a big challenge for composers. What kind of rhythm is used to make the love in words more full and sincere is the most concerned issue of Xu Fei.
The lyrics of "Prose Poems Written by Father" are as follows:
1984, there was no harvest. 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 will go to my neighbor's house tomorrow and borrow more money. 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 the words in my father's diary, and this is the prose poem left by his youth. Many years later, I watched the tears flow, and my father was always with me. 1994, the crops have been harvested. Last year, my mother died, and my son ran into the campus in a white shirt. But he has something on his mind recently and lost a lot of weight.
Think about the future, I always become 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 hope they don't live so hard. This is the words in my father's diary, and this is a prose poem left by him all his life. Years later, I watched the tears flow down, but my father was always with me.
This is the words in my father's diary, and this is a prose poem left by him all his life. Years later, I watched the tears flow, but my father was in the wind. Like an old newspaper, this is a generation. The footprints left behind, after several storms, will erase the traces. This land once made me cry, and it buried many sad memories. La ~ ~ ~