There is an old saying that has been passed down to this day.
You took my hand and walked into my life.
I care about your afterlife.
You are not just you, and I am not just me.
I am the millet in your heart.
You were busy that day.
You are chasing the old ox, one step at a time.
Wandering in the rain is a dream of beginning of spring.
Wander back and forth
Finally, a cuckoo called out a pair of tender feet.
When you laugh, the world turns green.
There is an old saying that has been passed down to this day.
You took my hand and walked into my life.
I care about your afterlife.
You are not just you, and I am not just me.
You are a mountain in my heart.
On Qingming Day, you took me to the mountain.
Take me to the root.
Since the long summer.
Sometimes there are thunderstorms and sometimes the sun is like fire.
I keep a dream in my heart and let my roots go deeper into the soil.
Summer solstice
Under the baptism of a flood, I tried to grow up to be like you.
I am no longer the child who saw fireflies and asked you to catch them.
You finally freed your hands and gave the deaf grandpa a cup of tea.
I looked at the starry sky. Grandpa's old story is really beautiful.
There is an old saying that has been passed down to this day.
You took my hand and walked into my life.
I care about your afterlife.
You are not just you, and I am not just me.
I am still Xiaomi in your heart.
You turn a millet yellow, and the earth is golden.
You realized a dream, but the geese flew away.
"Jane Jane warehouse, the millennium is frost. The so-called Iraqis are on the water side. "
I shook my head when I saw it.
Now you are standing on the ridge of beginning of autumn, happy and sad.
Until the first frost.
My letter to you, even if it is a few degrees below zero.
You hold it in your hand and tremble.
I said I was fine.
You said you burned paper money for me and gave it to her on Double Ninth Festival.
It was about dusk, and several tired birds flew across the sky.
There is an old saying that has been passed down to this day.
You took my hand and walked into my life.
I care about your afterlife.
You are not just you, and I am not just me.
You are still a mountain in my heart.
Smoke rises around you, and I look at my homesickness.
In the winter of solstice
I didn't take your bag, jiaozi.
From that day on, I wrapped myself tightly and warmly.
I want to grow harder and grow into a tree.
Go home before the storm.
I'm back, and snowflakes are flying all over the sky.
Snow has turned white your hair, beard and face.
You stand at the entrance of the village.
I see you and my mountain from a distance.
If you come to pick me up again in my life, the spring will open in my heart.
I will spend the rest of the cold days with you.
See you in the afterlife where you want to go.
Note: Filial piety is the most common story of two generations.