"Golden Flower" (Lesson 24 in the first volume of the seventh-grade edition of the People's Education Press)
Suppose I became a golden flower and grew on the high branches of the tree for fun, smiling. The ground swayed in the air and danced on the new leaves. Mom, would you know me? If you shouted: "My child, where are you?" I smiled secretly, but made no sound.
I want to open the petals quietly and watch you work. After you took your bath, with wet hair spread on your shoulders, you walked through the shadow of the champa tree to the small courtyard where you say prayers, and you would smell the fragrance of the flowers, but not know that it came from me. After you have lunch, sit by the window and read Ramayana. And when the tree's shadow falls over your hair and your knees, I will fling my little shadow on the page of your book, just where you are reading. But would you guess that this is your child's little shadow? When in the evening you went to the cowshed with the lighted lamp in hand, I should suddenly drop to the earth again and be your baby again, and beg you to tell me a story.
"Where have you been, you bad boy?" "I won't tell you, Mom." That's what you and I wanted to say at that time.
"The Other Bank" (also included in the textbook, but I couldn't find it)
I long to go to the other side of the river.
Over there, rows of boats are tied to bamboo poles; people cross over there in boats in the morning, carrying plows on their shoulders to plow their distant fields; over there , the shepherds let their croaking cattle swim to the pastures by the river; at dusk, they all went home, leaving only the jackals howling on the island full of weeds. ?Mom, if you don't mind, when I grow up, I want to be the boatman of this ferry.
It is said that there are many strange ponds hidden behind this high bank.
After the rain passed, groups of wild swans flew there. Lush reeds grow around the shore, where water birds lay eggs; bamboo chickens with dancing tails leave their tiny footprints on the clean soft mud; at dusk, the long grass is topped with white flowers, inviting the moonlight to grow. Floating on waves of grass.
Mom, if you don't mind, when I grow up, I want to be the boatman of this ferry.
I will cross from one shore to the other, and all the boys and girls in the village who are bathing there will look at me in surprise.
When the sun rises to the zenith and the morning becomes noon, I will run to you and say: "Mom, I'm hungry!" At the end of the day, the shadow is lying under the tree, and I will Come home at dusk.
I will never leave you to do things in the city like dad did.
Mom, if you don't mind, when I grow up, I want to be the boatman of this ferry.