[Tang] Meng Jiao
The thread in the loving mother's hand,
Make clothes for her wayward son.
She sewed it carefully, mended it thoroughly,
Afraid that the delay would make him come home late.
But how much love does an inch of grass have,
Did you repay the kindness of generous Sun?
Paper boat-send it to mom
backbone
I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-Save it,
Folding into a very small boat,
Throw it into the sea from the boat.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I still fold it every day without losing heart,
I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wanshui Qian Shan, please bring her love and sorrow home.
Wild goose river, my mother
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 Dayanhe.
Dayan and I raised a family by raising me.
I grew up on your milk,
Dayanhe, my nanny.
Along the river, I saw snow today, which reminds me of you:
Your grave is covered with snow,
Your closed former residence, the dead Wafi on the roof,
The ten-square-foot garden you pawned,
The mossy stone chair in front of your door,
Along the river, I saw the snow today, which reminds me of you.
You hold me in your arms with your big palm and touch me;
After you set up the stove,
After you took the charcoal ash off your apron,
When you taste the cooked rice,
After you put the black sauce bowl on the black table,
After you repaired your sons' clothes cut by thorns on the hillside,
When you have bandaged the child's hand cut by the firewood knife,
After you strangled the lice on your husband's shirt one by one,
After you picked up your 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.
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 just looked at the plaque on the eaves, which read the words "happy family" I didn't know.
I touched the silk and shell buttons of my new dress.
I looked at my mother's strange sister,
I sat on a kang stool with a brazier painted on it.
I ate rice that had been ground three times,
However, I am so embarrassed! Because I
I became a new guest in my parents' house.
Dayan River, for living,
After she used up all the lotion,
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 the radish with ice.
With a smile on her face, she took out the spent grains eaten by pigs with her hands.
She smiled and fanned the fire in the saucepan.
She smiled and went to the square with a basket on her back.
Sun those soybeans and wheat,
Dayan River, for living,
After she used up all the lotion,
She just holds my arm and works.
Wild goose river, deeply in love with her baby;
During the Chinese New Year, I was busy cutting him the candy of that winter rice.
For him, he often goes to his home near her village quietly.
For him, go up to her and call "Mom".
Dayan River painted his bright red and green Guan Yunchang.
Stick it on the wall next to the stove,
Dayanhe will boast and praise his breasts to his neighbors;
Dayan and had a dream that can't be told:
In the dream, she ate her child's wedding wine,
Sitting in the magnificent celebration hall,
Her beautiful daughter-in-law affectionately calls her "mother-in-law"
…………
Dayanhe, love her baby!
Dayan and died before her dream woke up.
When she died, her breasts were not with her,
When she died, her husband, who usually beat and scolded her, also shed tears for her.
Five sons, all 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!
With the bullying of human life for more than forty years,
The misery of countless slaves,
With a four-dollar coffin and some straws,
There are only a few feet of land to bury the coffin,
With the ashes of a handful of paper money,
Wild goose river, she went away in tears.
This is big research and don'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
Live in the scolding of the host and landlord.
And I, I'm writing a spell for this unfair world.
When I returned to my native land after a long wandering,
On the hillside, in the fields,
When the two brothers met, they were closer than they were six or seven years ago!
This, this is for you, quietly sleeping Dayan River.
What you don't know!
Dayanhe, today, your baby is in prison.
Write a hymn for you,
Give you the purple soul under the loess,
Reach out to you and hug my hand,
Let you kiss my lips,
What is presented to you is a muddy and gentle face.
It's for you, because you lifted my breasts,
To your sons, my brothers,
To everything on earth,
My big weir nanny and their son,
Dedicated to Da Yanhe who loves me as his own son.
Dayan River,
I grew up eating your milk.
Your son,
I respect you.
Love You!
Mom, why did I keep you waiting so long?
Mom is really old and has become a child-like entanglement. Every time she calls, she always asks enthusiastically: When will you go home? Not to mention 1000 miles, I have to change trains three times. Work and children alone have kept me busy and I can't spare time to go home. Mom's ears are not good. I explained it for a long time, but she still asked eagerly: When can you come back? Repeatedly, I finally lost my patience and shouted loudly on the phone. She finally understood and hung up the phone silently. Every few days, my mother will ask the same question again, but her tone is timid and she loses confidence. Like a reluctant child, it's no use asking, but there's nothing I can do. I relented and hesitated.
Mother cheered up at once when she saw that I was not bored. She described to me with joy: the pomegranates in the backyard are all in bloom and the watermelons are almost ripe. Come back. I am embarrassed to say: how can I take a vacation when I am so busy? She said at once that her mother had cancer and could only live for half a year! I immediately accused her of talking nonsense, and she laughed. When I was young, whenever it was windy and rainy, I didn't want to go to school, so I had a stomachache. My mother caught me and gave me a good scolding. Now that she is old, she teaches her daughter to lie. I am angry and funny. This question and answer kept repeating, and I finally couldn't bear to tell her that I would definitely go back next month, but my mother choked with joy.
But somehow, there are always endless things, and nothing is more important than going home. Finally, I didn't go back. The mother on the other end of the phone seems to have no strength to say another word. I am full of guilt: Mom, are you angry? Mom heard the truth this time, and she quickly said, son, I'm not angry with you. I know that you are busy. But in a few days, my mother's phone became more and more urgent. She said that when the grapes are ripe, so are the pears. Come back for dinner. I said, what is rare? It's all over the street. Ten dollars and eight dollars can eat enough. Mom was unhappy, so I coaxed her patiently: However, those things are raised by chemical fertilizers and pesticides, so how can you grow them well? Mother smiled proudly.
On Saturday, the temperature was so high that I dared not go out and stayed at home with the air conditioner on. The child shouted that there was no ice cream, so I had to go downstairs to buy it. I suddenly saw my mother's figure in the steaming street. She seems to have just got off the bus with a basket on her arm and a heavy bag on her back. She bent down to hide from the left and dodge from the right for fear that others would touch her things. In the crowded crowd, mother's every step is very difficult. I called out to her, and she quickly raised her sweaty face and looked around. She was speechless with surprise when she saw me coming. As soon as I got home, my mother happily held out those things. The veins stood out on her hands, her fingers were covered with tape, and there was a scabbed blood mark on the back of her hand. Mom smiled and said to me: Eat, eat quickly, I have chosen everything. My mother, who has never been far away, came all the way here just for my words. She took the cheapest bus without air conditioning. It was hot and crowded, but the juicy grapes and pears were intact. I can't imagine how she came all the way. I only know that in this world, where there is a mother, there is a miracle. My mother only stayed for three days. She said I worked too hard, got up early and went to work in the dark, and had to take care of my children. She was in a hurry, but she couldn't help.
She is afraid to touch the kitchen equipment for fear of damaging them. She quietly booked the ticket herself and then quietly left alone. Only a week after I went back, my mother said that she missed me again and kept urging me to go home. I wry smile: Mom, please be patient! The next day, I got a call from menstruation: Your mother is ill, please come back soon. I was so anxious that my eyes were black and I ran to the station with tears in my eyes and caught the last bus. Along the way, I prayed silently in my heart.
I hope my mother lied to me. I hope she's okay. I am willing to listen to her nagging, eat the rice she cooked for me, and come to see her often.
Only then did I understand that people need their mothers to live to 80 years old. The bus finally arrived at the village entrance, and my mother trotted over, all smiles. I hugged her and wanted to cry and laugh, blaming her: you said it was not good, and you said you were sick, but you could think of it!
The scolded mother is still infinitely happy. She just wants to see me.
Mom went in and out happily, and set a table full of delicious food, waiting for my compliment. I criticized mercilessly: red bean porridge is cooked; The skin of steamed stuffed bun is too thick; Braised pork is too salty. Mom's smile suddenly became awkward, and she scratched her head helplessly. I chuckled. I know that once I say something is delicious, my mother will make me eat a lot and take it with me when I leave. In this way, I was fattened by her and couldn't lose weight. Besides, without belittling her, how can I have a chance to occupy the kitchen?
I cook for my mother and chat with her. My mother stared at me for a long time, and her eyes showed incomparable love.
No matter what I said, she listened devoutly with her mouth half open, and even took a nap. She sat by the bed and looked at me with a smile. I said, since it hurts me so much, why don't you live with me? She said that she was not used to living in the city for a few days, so I was in a hurry to go back, and my mother begged me to stay another day. She said that she had sent someone to the city to buy food, and she was sure to come back soon. She must cook a good meal for me. The county seat is more than 90 miles away from here. My mother must bring back everything she thinks delicious for me to eat, so that she can feel at ease.
After coming back from the menstrual home, the dishes carefully prepared by my mother finally came to the table. I can't help but wonder-the fish scales are not scraped clean, the chicken pieces are fine chicken feathers, and the sesame oil Flammulina velutipes has hair. No matter whether it is meat or vegetarian, people can't eat chopsticks. Mom was so clean when she was young, but now she is so untidy when she is old. My mother won't eat when she sees me being picky. She gave in painfully and sent me to take the night bus. It was dark and my mother took my arm. She said, you are not used to walking in the country. She accompanied me on the bus and kept talking about the east and the west. When the bus started, she was in a hurry to get off, but her skirt was caught in the door and she almost fell down. I choked up and squatted on the window and shouted, mom, mom, look out! She didn't hear clearly. She ran after the car and shouted, son, I'm not angry with you. I know you are busy!
This time, mom seems very satisfied. She never urged me to go home again, but kept telling me some happy things: a good calf was added at home; Next spring, she will plant many flowers in the yard. Listen, I feel warm. By the end of the year, I got a call from menstruation again. She said: Your mother is ill, come back early. How can I believe that if we talked the day before yesterday, my mother said she was fine and told me not to worry. Menstruation just kept urging me, so I went back with a grain of salt and bought a big bag of oil cakes that my mother loved. When the bus reached the village head, I craned my neck and looked around. I have a bad feeling that my mother didn't come to pick me up.
Menstruation told me that when she called me, my mother was gone and she walked peacefully. Half a year ago, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, but she didn't tell anyone and was busy closing her eyes as usual. Arrange your own affairs. Menstruation also tells me that my mother suffers from eye diseases for a long time and it is very difficult to see things. I held the bag of cake tightly to my chest, as if my heart had been ripped out. It turned out that my mother knew that she didn't have much time left, so she kept asking me to go home. She wants to see me more and talk to me more.
It turned out that I was picky about the food that refused to eat chopsticks. She did it under the condition of blurred vision. How careless I am! The night I left, how she groped home alone, and whether she fell or not, I will never know. Mother, at the last moment of my life, told me happily that the old chimney was covered with morning glory, and the flat bean curd bloomed like the purple clothes I wore when I was a child. You leave all the love, all the warmth, and then leave quietly.
I know you are the only person in the world who won't be angry with me, and the only person who will wait for me forever. It is because of this human feeling that I dare to keep you waiting for so long. But, mom, am I really that busy?
In those four years, we seemed to be rich.
In those four years, we seemed to be rich. When we walk into the dormitory, we will buy a pack of cigarettes that even dad can't bear to smoke.
In those four years, we seemed to be rich and became the nanny of our husband and wife, but we couldn't buy the cheapest pearl necklace for our mother when we went home.
In those four years, we seemed to be rich. My parents' mobile phone only has the function of telephone and short message, which is less than our living expenses for one month. However, its greatest significance is that when you need it, it will tell your parents that they are thinking of you.
In those four years, we seemed to be rich. When autumn comes, you will take cosmetics at the counter for half a day, but the cosmetics that my mother uses most are the detergent that accompanies her year after year.
At that time, we forgot the idea of being a hero when we were young, and only learned to shout for wine to the waiter in the restaurant.
When the virtual network becomes the vanity of life, it makes you feel proud rather than ashamed when chatting with others.
When will parents stop talking about their past bitter days and squeeze out their children's feast from their belts? At noon, we learn to get up, turn on the computer on the table with our toes and dial the phone of the restaurant downstairs.
Our parents have gone to great pains to send us to such a readable university, but we enjoy the happiness that our parents will never enjoy.
The magic of the university is that people feel that all vanity is at ease. But I still don't know what meaning college should give in my life, except what my father has always said: to live a good life, every penny has its meaning.
In those four years, we really had no money. Although your mouth is full of colorful society, love me and love you.
In those four years, we really had no money. When you have the ability to make money, you no longer regard ignorance as your personality.
Those four years, let's call them those four years. I hope we will have money in the future, let our parents live a happy life, and make up for the lies we once told to ask our parents for money.
Our university road not only bears our personal learning responsibility, but also bears the expectations of parents, teachers, relatives and friends. It's too cheap to just reward them with a ticket to college. The fruitful results when I graduated from college in 4 years are worthy of this boat ticket, the "stars" holding the moon, and the best youth in these 4 years!
Mom, I'm fine. I love you.
Many years ago, in the early morning of March 26th, a young man was lying on the track of Shanhaiguan, and a roaring train ran over the body of an idyllic poet in China. It happened to be his 25th birthday.
This person is Haizi who wrote "Facing the sea, spring blossoms". This poet who has been crawling on the earth all his life, calling for food and vegetables with a juicy voice, ended his short life cruelly.
However, this child named Cha Haisheng won't know in the other world. On the morning of his birthday, his mother had cooked a pot of red rice porridge in the stove smoke in the country, silently blessing her son in such a traditional way.
When a bloody body and a mother's heart lie on the cold rail, they can't stand being crushed any more. Ending one's life on one's birthday may be the most heartbreaking thing for a mother in the world. When a life rushes out of the mother's womb, it has risen from the mother's womb and taken root in the mother's heart.
In March in that rainy country, Haizi's ashes were sent to Chawan Village, where his mother lived, and an earth grave was built under the forest more than 300 meters in front of the door.
Since then, the mother's eyes have never left her son's grave for a day. It is the mother's soul that accompanies her son to sleep. In the wind and rain of twenty-one years in the countryside, the mother cried her son "Haisheng" and cried her eyes blind. "Haisheng" is my mother's nickname all the time.
At the age of fifteen, Haisheng was admitted to Peking University. The whole village is boiling, and a county town is also sensational. Mom quickly moved her little feet and sent her steamed white cakes from door to door at night. The son became a poet in Beijing after graduation. The first time I went to Beijing to see my son, my mother smiled and said, "Haisheng, go and cut it!" " "On the day his mother left, the poor poet borrowed 300 yuan from others and insisted on stuffing it into his fucking bag. Mother's bag contains fifty eggs brought from home. She keeps a flock of chickens for her son in the country. After several days and nights of bumps, I arrived in Beijing, but none of them broke down. Mother has been holding a cloth bag full of eggs, because she believes that every time her son eats an egg, his pale face will become more ruddy.
It is said that her son gave her 300 yuan, which is still in her mother's arms in her eighties. Mother said that after her death, it would be enough to send her on the road with her son's 300 yuan.
After the child committed suicide, many people exclaimed that it was a comet fall in poetry. Some people praised his poems like thunder. However, in mother's eyes, there is no comet at all, only life attached to her heart. There is no thunder in the mother's ear, only the child cries in her dream.
A country can live without poets. A mother can't lose her child. Haizi, he did not write the most painful poem into the land of his ode, but embedded it in the painful blood and heart of a mother.
So I have always felt that it is cruel to my mother to miss such a poet in spring. The boundless sky, how it expresses deep love and gentle whispers to the land of vast expanse, I think it is a dense light rain and light rain. So, how do children express their deepest love for their mothers?
I think there is only one answer. Living well means loving your mother. Without a healthy and beautiful life, the mother who gave birth to life is happier.
I know a friend. Every time a rural mother comes to the county, she refuses all social activities and goes home to have dinner with her mother at a small table. He told me that when I grew up, my mother only gently leaned on his shoulder once in so many years. It was the first time that he took the elevator with his mother. When the mother felt helpless and slightly dizzy, she couldn't help leaning her head on her son's shoulder. On that occasion, he burst into tears and dripped on his mother's gray hair.
A friend said that the first gray hair on his head was found by his mother. The bags under his eyes caused by his poor sleep were seen by his mother. One day, he will let go of his lifelong hand with his mother at the intersection. Then in the limited time with my mother, I want to be with my mother, live a good life and let her feel his happiness.
So, he said, in life, the best poem written to mother is still:
Mom, I'm fine, but I love you. ...
Mother's heart
My grandmother is old and weak.
My grandmother didn't know my grandfather at first, and resolutely banned this "strange man" from going to her bed. The wife who has slept with her for 50 years has to sleep in the living room. Then one day grandma went out and disappeared. Finally, with the help of the police station, the family finally got her back. It turned out that grandma was bent on finding her childhood home and refused to admit that her present home had anything to do with her.
Coaxed and deceived, she finally persuaded her grandmother to stay, but forgot that she had brought up her nephews and nieces since childhood, thinking that they were a group of wild children and came to rob her of food. She hit them with a cane and protected her rice bowl with one hand: "Go away and don't eat my food." Let the whole family laugh and cry.
Fortunately, grandma also knows someone-my mother, and remembers that she is her own daughter. Every time I see her, I always smile and call her "Mao Mao, Mao Mao". At dusk, I moved a stool and sat downstairs, nagging: "Why doesn't Mao Mao finish school?" -Even He Miaomiao's daughter graduated from college.
Grandma's family is right in this matter. If she wants to talk back to her family in the future, she will threaten her: "If you make trouble again, Mao Mao will not want you." Grandma will be quiet soon.
One National Day, a guest came from afar, and my mother cooked a home-cooked meal for the guests herself. Grandma has a very strange action at the dinner table. Whenever a dish is served on the table, grandma will be alert to spy around and sneak around, just like a child who is ready to steal candy. Finally, judging that no one paid attention to her, grandma put a big chopstick dish in her pocket in full view. Both the host and the guests were shocked, but they pretended not to see each other, only grandma herself, as if believing that she had done it very cleverly and secretly, and showed a cheerful smile. That meal was ... it was a little difficult.
After the last dish was served, my mother, who had been too busy to touch the floor, came out of the kitchen, picked up some leftovers from the plate and asked the guests "have you eaten?" At this time, my grandmother jumped up and grabbed my mother's hand and pulled it hard. My mother was confused and had to get up with her.
Grandma pulled her mother to the door all the way, warily blocked everyone's sight with her body, then fished in her pocket, smiled and took out the food just hidden inside and stuffed it into her mother's hand: "Mao Mao, I specially left it for you, you eat, you eat."
My mother was holding all kinds of piles in her hand, and it was so crowded that she waited for a long time before she looked up and saw grandma's smiling face. She suddenly cried.
The disease cut off all the connections between grandma and the world, making her forget all the connections in life. All the relatives, the only thing that can't be cut off is the blood relationship between mother and daughter. Her soul has slowly died under the erosion of disease, but it is her mother's heart that will never die.