A heart-warming prose poem written to my mother
1. Mother, you are the lotus leaf and I am the red lotus. The raindrops in my heart are coming. Who is me except you? Green grass under an unobstructed sky.
—Bing Xin's "Lotus Leaf·Mother"
2. Mother, the rain in the sky is coming, the birds are hiding in their nests, the storm in my heart is coming, I just I can hide in your arms.
—Bing Xin's "Mother"
3. Mother is as humble as moss, as solemn as the morning sun, as soft as the sound of water in the south of the Yangtze River, and as hard as a thousand-year-old cold jade. When she raises her eyes, she is the bright moon; when she lowers her hands, she is the vast earth.
——Love's "Mother"
4. I rely on you to dream in spring, prosper in summer, mature in autumn, and meditate in winter. The tall and broad tree canopy makes the surrounding areas never wild.
—Love's "Mother"
5. I don't remember my mother, but in the morning of early autumn, the fragrance of albizia flowers floats in the air, and the fragrance of morning prayers in the temple, It was as if my mother's breath was blowing to me.
— Tagore's "Mother"
6. After lunch, you sit in front of the window and read Ramayana. The shadow of the tree falls on your hair and I will cast my little shadow on your page, right where you are reading.
— Tagore's "Golden Flower"
7. Oh, mother, my sweet and deep yearning is not a torrent, not a waterfall, it is something that cannot be sung amid the flowers and trees. Dry well.
—Shu Ting's "Oh, Mother"
8. Your pale fingertips caress my temples, and I can't help but hold on to the skirt of your clothes tightly like I did when I was a child.
—Shu Ting "Oh, Mother"