Look at the children in the mountain village
Look at the children of poor families, and you can't help reading them.
Our parents' love for us is different from ours.
Parents' love is the ocean.
Our love is a stream.
Always weave a concerned dream in the deepest night.
Always waiting for a tired figure in the longest dusk.
Snowflakes outside the window bring happiness and sadness.
There is a sweet tiredness in the cradle.
Waiting for you, growing up
Waiting for you, I can hear the most delicate sound.
Waiting for you, I can understand the most casual look.
Waiting for you, in the simplest dream, we are already white-haired