Modern Poetry of Missing Relatives —— On Rain on the River at Qingming Festival

It's another Qingming rain.

I wrote down my thoughts in April of the earth.

It's a long way to my hometown.

Along the cement road

A pinch of fresh mud

Where is my Xinghua village?

The shepherd boy is also asking

An old tree

Record the rainfall in a village.

Lush leaves

It is the continuation of ancestors' life.

Cracked old branches

Remember grandpa's suffering.

An aging face

Grandpa's grave is short.

There are many new grasses growing on it.

Surrounded by wheat seedlings and rape blossoms.

Provoke back and forth in the spring breeze

Grandpa, grandma, grandma, grandpa

Spring blossoms!