Poetry cuts homesickness.

The autumn wind has started again, the sky is getting colder and colder, and the leaves are turning yellow. I'm afraid it's frosted in my hometown this morning. I looked at the land of Jingchu in Nanyue, as if I were in the clouds. This 1000 km distance has not passed for many years.

Secular fetters and human changes may be worlds apart now. When I heard that someone had built a new house, when I heard that my uncle had passed away, the memories of the past flashed in my mind in the dead of night, and I approached the memory place there many times in my dreams.

The river in front of my house is still crystal clear, and there are fish swimming gently under the grass; Whether there are teenagers playing around the fence in front of the door like I did then; The old house in my hometown has experienced many years of wind and rain, but it is still as strong as when I was a child; Is the wall covered with moss? The door is covered with weeds.

When he left home, he was a teenager, and when he returned home, he was already a hometown guest; It is homesickness that keeps cutting, and hometown that can't go back.