Poems by Yu Xiuhua, a Disabled Poet

The poems of Yu Xiuhua, a disabled poet, include I Love You, Going Home with Mom, Broken Moonlight and so on.

1, "I love you"

Baba lives, draws water, cooks and takes medicine on time every day.

Put yourself in when the sun is clear, like putting a piece of dried tangerine peel.

Drink tea in turn: chrysanthemum, jasmine, rose and lemon.

These beautiful things seem to take me on the road of spring.

So I kept the snow in my heart again and again.

They are too white, too close to spring.

Read your poems in a clean yard.

The world is in a trance like a sparrow that suddenly flies by.

Time is bright.

I'm not fit for grief.

If I send you a book, I won't send you poetry.

I will give you a book about plants and crops.

Tell you the difference between rice and barnyard grass

Tell you a barnyard grass

Terrible spring

2. "Go home with mom"

The road in the village was expanded and the subgrade was destroyed.

Along with the moon that has been hanging in the sky, it is also destroyed.

A rain destroyed a little sutra that had just been trampled.

An old woman is pulling a woman who can't walk steadily.

A pair of muddy feet dragged another pair of feet stuck in the mud.

One voice is wrong, the other voice is right.

3. Broken moonlight

I'm at a loss.

The moon has been swallowed by me and then spit out.

It's also broken moonlight

I can't find a pair of hands in the fog.

I want people to heat up again, just like returning seawater to the sky.

Cut off the way, cut off the destination.

I sat alone in the village until dawn.

I am the dew falling back to the grass.

I am not clean.

Fate won't give me a candy.

If I really dare to steal from the crowd

that person

I will definitely get my reward.

Now I would like to sit in a person's shadow.

She's dead.

I crawled for her.

The 40th birthday is waiting in the middle of the night not far away.

Mom said I wouldn't celebrate my 40th birthday.

Mom said I was divorced and my 40th birthday was boring.

Mother took my hand home.

It's too tight for me to tremble.

What my mother said was forceful, unlike a patient.

When I got home, the light in my mother's room went out soon.

I left the light on all night.

I thought that in this way, I could get in touch with the dawn earlier.