Chapter one: Ode to a loving mother
In my heart,
One place is unfathomable,
It never asked,
You are the fire of hope,
Light up my future, give me hope,
Every dark night,
I care about you,
Every cold night,
You give me endless warmth,
It began to rain,
Every drop of rain is telling.
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.
Chapter II: Mother, Mother
-Mother's Day is dedicated to all mothers in the world.
Your silvery hair, rickety body and lonely figure
You are old.
You associate with neighboring villages.
At the age of 80, he still draws water and cooks himself.
You are still attached to my childhood home.
Hometown of dreams
You have raised our four children all your life.
Four children are the pride of your life.
The pigeons you let go are the concern of your life.
Hope for survival
Every time I mention this to someone,
Zhang Shanliang's face is always full of smiles.
mother
I have been through a lot.
A long-suffering mother
How can a blunt pen write thousands of words?
I'm in love.
Chapter III: Great Motherly Love
Pick a bunch of the brightest roses,
With all my dear words to my mother,
Mom said I was stupid,
Roses are flowers that symbolize love.
I don't know,
It is also a flower that the child wants to give to his mother.
I haven't heard my mother tell jokes about my childhood for a long time.
I regret it,
Listen, if you fall asleep.
Mom said, silly boy,
A mother can never finish what she has to say to her children.
Is to sleep in the grave,
You are also my eternal concern.
Chapter Four: "Ode to Mother"
This document is addressed to all mothers in the world, whether they are poor or rich.
Mom, can you use the hands of dead tree skin?
Brush off the frost that has turned gray on your temples? I know
The bow of the red ribbon bleached the black hair in my memory.
Long time no see. Mother, as if nothing had happened.
Or wriggle a loose tooth gently?
It's neither too tight nor too slow. Laugh in tears
Sing some songs that are still fresh in my childhood.
Memory is the snake of missing. Draw a word
Winding forward, my bitter ink in this life.
Mom, are you still willing to use this cracked tongue core?
Lick my arrogant poison. I am in front of you.
Always a child who doesn't grow up.
So there is a vague topic called maternal love.
It is undoubtedly the stupidest injury to a wanderer.
Mom, you are old. You used to be as famous as chrysanthemums.
The edge of the white porcelain bottle has your residual medicine fragrance.
Plain silk was very popular in the old days. manage
Brushed the heart of love, but still
I can't hide your crazy concern.
The autumn wind has started. Even in the shadow of loneliness, mom
Don't catch cold either. No matter when and where
Sunset depends on a crutch called a child.
And you, on fertile soil.
Seeds covered with vegetation are sprouting and growing.
And I, at the moment. I just want to hear your call.
My real name. In a trance, mother
I seem to be back in the yard, next to the well where I drew water as a child.
Chapter 5: "Mother, you have worked hard."
The human body can leave,
People don't leave,
Just as we will never forget our ancestors,
Forget about mother.
Mother is the quilt on her body,
She will feel cold without it.
Mother is the salt in the dish,
Life is tasteless without her.
Mother must have her pain.
The pain of wandering,
It often hangs on her face,
Watching the children's laughter intertwined.
Chapter 6: Mother in the Storm
Life is like walking on a stormy road.
Mother is at the front.
Send some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain to their mothers.
Mom pushed it to me again.
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mother outside the umbrella,
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.