The poem "Auntie" begins with the vicissitudes of time pressing her into a bow. ...

Aunt, the Great Wall is wrapped in a mountainside, and there is a village at the foot of the mountain. The brigade crossed the ridge and entered the village, resting and enjoying the cool under the big locust tree. Aunt stood at the gate, her chin in her hand, staring at something. I ran to the well to drink cold water. menstruation quickly stopped me: Don't drink cold water, go home and cook hot soup for you. When we got on the kang, my aunt lit a fire and told her family that there was no one at home, just me and this tofu mill. A son, a soldier, died on Woodpecker Hill. Aunt has no tears in her eyes. She looked at the flames and then at us: whenever the procession passed by, I stood at the door. Same gun, same gray uniform, just like my son, he is different. I'll never find him again ... hot soup dripped on our hands and tears fell on her heart.