Text/Fu Tianlin
In the field, mom.
You bend down to make famous paintings.
A face covered with wheat straw
Tired and bright
The gentleness of the silver night
From the thatched cottage
Our home will always be green.
The soul from the mother
Always open
Grandchildren's corn and ears of grain
hand down from generation to generation
Surround you into a village
In the mother's broad fragrance
I only have the smell and desire of a mung bean.
Fu Tianlin's Mother is a rhyming poem, but it is still delicate, fresh, natural, sincere and profound without foot binding, which proves that the form of poetry is not the standard to judge the quality of poetry. The development of poetry needs to emancipate the mind, and emancipating the mind is to relieve the one-sided pursuit or harsh requirements for the form of poetry. As a mother, Mr. Fu Tianlin's description of "mother" began from the depths of the soul.