I want to see my voice and voice hollowed out by tears. I want to attend classes silently.
Qing Jiang Shi quan
I love my son endlessly, and I'm glad to go home. Cold clothes are needle and thread, and letters from home are ink stains.
If you encounter pity, you will ask for it. I am ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh.
Yu taiyong
Looking south at my hometown,
In the sea of clouds:
Picturesque.
Sighing wanderer,
Thousands of miles to Wan Li,
Don't worry about anything
How many joys and sorrows are there in the years?
How bitter and spicy is life?
To the loving mother,
Say it in your dream,
I'm not afraid.
People who lie still and rest are worried about Huang Chen.
Inscriptions are jagged, filial piety is the first word, and purple smoke haunts Qingyun.
There is pain, tears of loving mother, no regrets.
Several times I saw the spring selling water, and all I heard was gratitude.