Goethe
Although I haven't said hello to you for a long time,
I didn't write to you, but don't let your heart
Doubt, as if your son should.
My deep love for you comes from my chest.
Disappear. Nothing like that stone,
Always rooted in the bottom of the water,
It will never leave its position, even if it is running water.
Sometimes with wind and waves, sometimes with soft waves through it.
It flows by, so people can't see it,
My love for you is so inseparable.
In my chest, despite the long river of life,
Sometimes I am hit by pain and roll violently.
Sometimes quietly caressed by happiness,
Coverage and blockade make it impossible.
You can't reflect around the sun.
The returning sunshine is in front of your loving mother.
Let you know how much your son respects you.
Dedicated to mother Bei Heine
Heine
I'm used to strutting around,
My temperament is also a bit stubborn;
Even if the king and I face each other,
I won't lower my eyes.
But, mom, I want to be honest with you:
Although my self-esteem is very strong,
Once I come to your happy and kind side,
Often feel inferior and cringe.
You have a noble spirit that permeates everything,
Radiant, direct to the sun, the moon and the stars,
Is this spirit secretly conquered me?
Recalling the past really makes me sad.
I did a lot of wrong things and broke your heart.
Good love for my loving mother!
Ah, mom.
Ah, mom.
Shu Ting
Your pale fingertips touch my temple,
I can't help acting like a child.
Hold on to your skirt.
Ah, mom,
In order to keep your aging figure,
Although the morning light cuts dreams into smoke,
I still dare not open my eyes for a long time.
I still cherish that bright red scarf,
Afraid that cleaning will make it
Lose your unique warmth.
Ah, mom,
Isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless?
I'm afraid my memory will disappear,
How dare I open its screen easily?
I cried out to you for a thorn,
Now that I'm wearing a police uniform, I dare not,
I dare not moan.
Ah, mom,
I often look up at your photos sadly,
Even if the call can penetrate the loess,
How dare I disturb your sleep?
I dare not show the gift of love like this,
Although I have written many songs.
For flowers, for the sea, for the dawn.
Ah, mom,
My sweet, soft and deep memory,
Not rapids, not waterfalls,
It is an ancient well that can't sing among flowers and trees.