Author: Shu Ting
Your pale fingertips touch my temple.
I can't help acting like a child.
Hold on to your skirt
Ah, mom.
In order to keep your fading figure
Although the morning light has cut the dream into smoke.
I still dare not open my eyes for a long time.
I still cherish that bright red scarf.
Afraid that cleaning will make it
Lose your unique warmth
Ah, mom.
Isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless?
I'm afraid the memory will fade, too.
How dare I open its screen easily?
I cried to you for a thorn.
Now I'm wearing a Jing Guan, and I dare not.
I dare not moan.
Ah, mom.
I often look up at your photos sadly.
Even if the call can penetrate the loess
How dare I disturb your sleep?
I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this.
Although I have written many songs.
For flowers, for the sea, for the dawn.
Ah, mom.
My sweet, soft and deep memory.
Not a torrent, not a waterfall.
It's a dry well, and it can't sing under the shade of flowers and trees.
Paper boat-send it to mom
Author: Bing Xin
I never give up a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-Save it,
Folding into a very small boat,
Throw it from the boat into the sea!
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I still don't give up and fold every day.
I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason;
This is my beloved daughter with tears in her eyes.
Wanshui Qian Shan, please bring her love and sorrow home.
Tagore
If I become a golden flower, for fun,
Growing on a tall branch, swinging in the air with a smile,
Mom, will you still know me?
If you yell, "Where are you, son?"
I snickered there, but didn't say a word.
I will quietly open my petals and watch you work.
When taking a bath, my wet hair falls over my shoulders and passes through the golden flowers shaded by green trees.
When you go to the small courtyard of prayer, you will smell the flowers.
But I didn't know the smell came from me.
At lunch, I sat at the window and read Ramayana.
When the shadow of that tree falls on your hair and knees,
I want to cast my little shadow on your page,
Right where you are reading.
But can you guess that this is a small shadow of your child?
When you take the lamp to the cowshed at dusk,
I'm going to suddenly fall to the ground again,
To be your child again, please tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you bad boy?"
"I won't tell you, mom."
That's what you and I were trying to say.
-
Mother is as humble as moss,
Solemn as the morning light,
As soft as the voice of Jiangnan,
Hard as a thousand years of cold jade,
When I raised my eyes,
She is Hao Yue:
When I looked down,
She is a vast land.
-Love
A poem for mother
Mom, for a long time
I just want to write a poem for you.
But I wrote it many times.
I haven't written it yet
Mom, I wrote this poem for you.
I don't know how to start.
I don't know how to end it.
I don't know what to write.
It's like slapping you hard when you were a child.
I don't know whether to accept it bravely.
Or should I choose to escape?
Mom, I thought of you again tonight.
I decided to write a poem for you.
Even if it's not well written
Even if you are far from home.
Never read ...
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that he dreams for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wan Shui Qian Shan begged him to take her love and sorrow home.
-Bing Xin
Your pale fingertips touch my temple.
I can't help acting like a child.
Hold on to your skirt
Ah, mom.
In order to keep your fading figure
Although the morning light has cut the dream into smoke.
I still dare not open my eyes for a long time.
I still cherish that bright red scarf.
Afraid that cleaning will make it
Lose your unique warmth
Ah, mom.
Isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless?
I'm afraid the memory will fade, too.
How dare I open its screen easily?
I cried to you for a thorn.
Now I'm wearing a Jing Guan, and I dare not.
I dare not moan.
Ah, mom.
I often look up at your photos sadly.
Even if the call can penetrate the loess
How dare I disturb your sleep?
I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this.
Although I have written many songs.
For flowers, for the sea, for the dawn.
Ah, mom.
My sweet, soft and deep memory.
Not a torrent, not a waterfall.
It's a dry well, and it can't sing under the shade of flowers and trees.
-Shu Ting
Mother is as humble as moss,
Solemn as the morning light,
As soft as the voice of Jiangnan,
Hard as a thousand years of cold jade,
When I raised my eyes,
She is Hao Yue:
When I looked down,
She is a vast land.
-Love
Ode to mother
Although mother is still poor.
The child's love for his mother is unambiguous.
We just shouted "Long live mother"
Deeper love erupts in my heart like a volcano.
Although my mother is ordinary and has a great reaction,
She is the real hero in children's hearts.
Who can live in the achievements of princes and princes?
Children can keep their mother's kindness in mind.
Although mother speaks softly,
She is heavier than Mount Tai in children's hearts.
She has made no earth-shattering achievements.
But my mother and I watered the children's success together.