I'll wait for you in my dream tonight, Sun Sean.
father
It's snowing.
I came to see you.
You lie still.
In the snow
Snowflakes falling on pine and cypress trees
Much like your beard.
Colored prayer flag
Flying in your graveyard
be all tears
See you kind and tall.
Standing in the white landscape
father
recently
Are you okay?
Daughter misses you.
I miss you day and night.
Kneel in a thick cemetery
Light your favorite cigarette.
Bring your favorite Longjing.
Serve your favorite fruit.
Burn a lot of paper money for you.
Said a lot of things in my heart.
I shed a lot of tears hidden in my heart.
father
I want to know where you have been.
Such a cold day
Do you have any cotton-padded clothes to keep out the cold?
Pray that my father will come to my dream.
I'll wait for you in my dream tonight.
Chapter two: A Buddha who loves his family held up a three-foot ice pick in the ruthless years.
On the red flesh and blood
On young and active joints
Never-ending knives are great.
The blood sculpture of vicissitudes of life.
Leaving a rugged mountain road.
Buddha light shines on my soul.
Let me see the flag flying in the wind and rain.
Unswervingly carrying the guardian of love
The dazzling dew on the grass tip moistens my soul.
Let me see the dawn in the dark.
Let me sleep quietly on the edge of the cliff
Those deep and serious eyes
Like an embarrassing dazzling star.
Staring at my every step.
Motivate me to move forward with perseverance.
Let me on the vast grassland
Ride like a runaway horse
No timidity, no confusion
Some are.
Strong manhood.
Those calloused hands
In the dusty season
Sow the seeds of happiness
Under the thunderstorm and heavy rain
Swing and plow with difficulty
Sweat ran down the child's chest.
This is a longing for autumn fruits.
It is a deep affection for this land.
Stumbling and rheumatic feet.
Endure the sharp pain of serrated bone cutting.
On the frozen ice and snow
Left an indelible footprint.
Let me in the snowy winter
Feel the warmth of spring.
A wick, a lamp and a Buddha.
Shine on the road of The six great divisions in the wheel of karma.
In a word, a lifetime of love.
The power to nourish fragile life
Buddha or father.
That's the snowman's promise.
That is the Buddha in the child's heart.
That's my father.
He is a Buddha who loves his family.
The third article "Father's Poetry"/Mo Yi
Father is a staunch poet.
He dedicated his youth to the frontier.
He refused the call of the distant mountain.
He faded the aura behind him.
Put down the steel gun and pick up the pen.
Bare feet
Parallel to the muddy path.
Two rows of deep footpits.
One line is full of poverty, and the other line is full of sadness.
Look at that lifeless hill
Looking at the low and shabby adobe house.
He took advantage of the sharpness of tiles.
In the wilderness of the atrium
There was an earth-shattering spring thunder.
He wants to use a pen tip.
Inhale the gentle breeze.
In a poor hometown, change the poverty in your hometown.
Father is a wise poet.
He never waits for the light to come.
Always catch the lightning in the wind.
He likes to stand in front of spring.
Conceive the sound of holding flowers.
He used seeds to create a poetic mood.
He used the rhythm of the river to express his feelings.
His boldest brushwork.
This is a highway extending in all directions.
His roughest branch
This is a bridge that runs through the north and south.
His strongest feelings
It's the eyes of a child flying with wings.
He has a pot of strong liquor, which is his most vivid reason.
He has a pot of dry cigarettes, which is his most vivid language.
He used a blue smoke ring.
Beating the ever-changing sky
Let spring, summer, autumn and winter obey his creative peak.
Father is a diligent poet.
He has a big dictionary.
Wind, rain and lightning intertwined with cold and heat
Sunshine is the image of his totem
Soil is the scene of his writing.
He deconstructed hieroglyphics.
He interprets it by changing the scene.
He wrote about the sweet love between peach blossom and pear blossom.
He wrote about the happy marriage of strawberries and tomatoes.
He described vast fields and mountains.
He wrote a symphony of chickens, ducks, cattle and sheep.
He has a pen that is always broken.
He has a pair of shoulders that won't be crushed.
Year after year, year after year
One is carrying the faint morning light, and the other is carrying the crowded starlight.
Father is a successful poet.
He has keen eyes.
He can dissect the scorching sun and remove hidden shadows.
He can strip away the night and find the light of imprisonment.
Every time he gets pregnant, he finds another way.
Every expression he makes is expanding and innovating.
His works are not only local but also original.
His style is not only natural and environmentally friendly, but also unique
Whenever his new book is good at winning the game alone.
He popularized these technologies.
Whenever his works are well known.
He passed on his skills to the villagers.
30 years of hard work and 30 years of prosperity.
Their works are endless.
Their rewards are endless.
The villas that have sprung up in every household are a monument they are proud of.
Men, women and children can't help smiling faces, which are their proud medals.
Father is a great poet.
He is just an insignificant village official.
But there is a pen name that the world admires.
This pen name is farmer.
Ploughs, pickaxes, poles
? It is their persistent pen.
Natural, true and clear
? What they pursue is poetry.
Get rid of poverty, get rich and get high yield
? It is their persistent artistic conception.
They collect wind, rain and sunshine from the sky.
Spread thick paper on the floor.
A rough palm full of calluses
Drink the backbone of the feather with a bow.
Dai Yue's star style.
Thick ink soaked with sweat and hard work
Create a chapter on planting and breeding.
Write the fragrance that nourishes and warms the world.
Rivers, Castle Peak, Sichuan and Yuan Ye.
This is their powerful vocabulary.
A garden fruit tree, a ridge of vegetables, a piece of cotton mulberry.
It's his neat lines.
Those heavy fruits and golden ears of rice.
Those plump corn sorghum, those strong chickens, ducks, cattle and sheep.
All these are published in the monthly magazine Earth.
Chapter IV Father Dear Dad
You created this family.
Then he created me.
You hold my hand.
From yesterday to now.
Huh? Puss Gets the Boot
You are the person I admire most.
Huh? My kind father
You are my future idol.
When you drag your tired body
End the day's work
When you walk into this home that belongs to you.
What you care about most is whether I come home from school or not.
Your love is a mountain.
Broad-minded, accommodating hundreds of rivers!
Your love is an umbrella.
Protect us from wind and rain and keep us away from disaster!
Your love is a boat.
Carrying us, riding the wind and waves, sailing to the harbor of love!
Huh? Dear dad
I love you!
Chapter five repay the kindness you don't want to accept in your life.
Never know if I should care.
I have been complaining in my heart.
Bind my freedom
It turns out that this road is full of gaps.
Not really.
Father always has no complaints.
Drive away the countercurrent
I wish I could recall everything now.
I have seen through yesterday's love.
However, the return is never enough.
There is no end to my dedication.
No matter how hard it is.
There is no end to my dedication.
Laughing leisurely, talking about happiness and sadness.
There is no end to my dedication.
It won't leak if it's far apart.
There is no end to my dedication.
How can I repay you even if I spend my whole life?
Why don't you rebel and take a step back?
Why go far?
Misunderstandings are always unintentional.
It is even worse.
Article 6 fatherly love
Father's love is a mountain,
This is a river,
It's rain, dirt,
Invisible oxygen,
It's a drawstring that pulls into the scapula.
A unicycle going uphill,
Deep and shallow marks on the boiling road.
Father's love is eternal,
It's magnificent,
It's 24K pure,
But often more silent than maternal love,
And more shy.
Father's love is muffled thunder,
It seldom rains and winds,
This is a white-haired Rubik's cube.
Do your best,
Right behind you,
Invisible eyes,
You must listen with your conscience and soul,
A tacit entrustment?
We grew up,
My father is old,
Years have carved vicissitudes on his face,
Time has eroded his hair.
On the road of our growth,
Father is also playing different roles,
Sometimes a teacher,
Teach us the truth of being a man;
Sometimes my brother,
Enjoy playing with us;
Sometimes friends,
Have a good drink with you.
I made you angry,
Hit me and hurt you;
I was timid and hesitant,
You gave me courage;
Without too much,
Every word is filled with deep love.
Dad, maybe my whole life,
I can't find anyone who loves me as much as you and mom.
You are taciturn,
But carefully arranged everything for me;
You never talk about love,
For me, it is endless tolerance;
You are willing to work hard for me all your life,
The only thing to worry about is,
But I'm afraid I can't find it
Someone who can take care of me and care about me like you.
In the blink of an eye,
Time flies,
He is really old.
His youth,
With our shouts,
Rush by;
His energy,
When we were toddlers,
Wear out gradually;
His tenacity,
With our strong growth,
Get thinner slowly.
He gave us all his love,
He spent all his energy on us,
He did everything for us,
However, he didn't ask for anything in return, and he was heart and soul.
In this world,
The most intense and brutal competition outside,
The person with the heaviest burden on his shoulders,
It's dad.
The loneliest person in the world,
It's dad.
Dad, I think,
Just like you hold my little hand,
Hold your big hand,
Accompany you all the way, stop and go.
Today is Father's Day,
I want to tell you loudly,
May health always accompany you.
? Dad, I love you! ?