Wild Goose River-My Nanny
Author: Ai Qing
Dayanhe is my nanny.
Her name is the name of the village where she was born
She is a child bride,
Dayanhe is my nanny.
I am the son of the landlord;
I also grew up eating milk from Dayan River.
Son of Dayan River.
Dayanhe raised her family and me,
I grew up on your milk,
Dayanhe, my Baum.
Dayanhe, the snow I saw today reminds me of you:
Your grave is covered with snow,
Your closed, dead Waffy living under the eaves,
The square garden you pawned,
The mossy stone chair in front of your door,
Dayanhe, the snow I saw today reminds me of you.
You hold me in your arms with thick palms and touch me;
After you set up the stove,
After you took charcoal powder off your skirt,
When you taste the cooked rice,
When you put the black sauce bowl on the black table,
When you have mended your child's clothes cut by thorns on the hillside,
After you bandaged your son's hand cut with a wooden knife,
After you strangled the lice on your husband's lining one by one,
When you pick up the first egg today,
You hold me in your arms with your big palm and touch me.
I am the landlord's son,
After I ate all your milk in Dayan River,
I was taken home by my parents who gave birth to me.
Ah, Dayanhe, why are you crying?
I'm a new guest at my parents' house!
I touched the furniture carved with red paint,
I touched the gold pattern on my parents' bed,
I looked blankly at the plaque on the eaves that I didn't know, "Family Fun".
I touched the silk and shell buttons of my new dress.
I looked at my mother's unfamiliar sister,
I sat on the oiled kang stool, holding the brazier.
I have eaten rice that has been ground three times.
However, I am so embarrassed! Because I
I became a new guest in my parents' house.
Dayanhe, for the sake of life,
After she drank all the milk,
She began to work with her arms hugging me;
She washed our clothes with a smile.
With a smile on her face, she went to the frozen pond near the village with a vegetable basket.
She smiled and cut Rob with ice.
With a smile on her face, she took out the spent grains eaten by pigs with her hands.
She fanned the fire in the saucepan with a smile on her face.
She smiled and went to the square with a basket on her back.
Sun those soybeans and wheat,
Dayanhe, for the sake of life,
After she drank all the milk,
She just held my arm and worked hard.
Wild goose river, deeply in love with her breasts;
During the Chinese New Year, I was busy cutting him the candy of that winter rice.
For him, she often walks quietly to her home on the edge of the village.
For him, walk up to her and call "Mom".
Dayan River, the red and green Guan Yunchang he painted.
Stick it on the wall next to the stove,
Dayanhe will boast about her breasts to her neighbors;
Dayanhe had a dream that he couldn't tell people:
In the dream, she ate her child's wedding wine,
Sitting in the bright and colorful hall,
Her beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately calls her "old woman"
… … … …
Dayanhe, love her breasts!
Dayanhe died before her dream woke up.
When she died, her breasts were not with her,
When she died, her mother-in-law who usually scolded her also shed tears for her.
Five sons, each crying sadly,
When she died, she whispered the name of her child.
Dayanhe, dead,
When she died, her breasts were not with her.
Dayanhe, tears streaming down her face!
After more than 40 years of bullying,
The misery of countless slaves,
With a four-dollar coffin and a few bundles of rice grass,
There are square cemeteries several feet long,
With a handful of paper and money,
Dayanhe, she left with tears in her eyes.
This is what Dayanhe doesn't know:
Her drunken husband died,
The eldest son became a bandit,
The second one died in the smoke of gunfire,
Third, fourth and fifth times
And I am writing a spell for this immoral world.
When I returned to my native land after a long wandering,
In Shan Ye,
Brothers and sisters meet, more intimate than six or seven years ago!
This, this is for you, the sleepy Dayan River.
You don't know anything!
Dayanhe, your baby is in prison today.
Write a beautiful poem for you,
Give you the purple soul under the loess,
Reach out to you and hug my hand,
Let you kiss my lips,
Presenting you with a muddy and soft face,
Dedicated to the nursing room where you raised me,
To your sons, my brothers,
Presented on the earth in the form of cutting,
My dam-like Baum and their son,
Dedicated to Dayan River, which loves me as my own son.
Dayanhe, I grew up eating your milk.
Your son
I respect you.
love you