Bing Xin's poem to his father

Ode to a Wanderer: The thread in the hand of Meng Jiao, a kind-hearted mother, makes clothes for her wayward son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring? Xuan's rags are still being tested, but the collar is still warm. I can't bear to take it lightly, because there are old lines on it. My mother is a master sculptor. I am my mother's best masterpiece. Compared with his mother, Rodin is nothing! Rodin's stone, sculpture or stone. Mother started a life! A mother's mind is the widest. Compared with mother, Buddha is nothing! My mother gave me all the happiness without complaining, and took away my pain without complaining. The Buddha is dead and still occupies so much of the world. Mother said: I didn't sleep well when I was alive. When I sleep, I find a place where no one bothers me, and I am satisfied. The word great has been used countless times, and I suddenly realized that greatness is the purest gift for my mother! Greatness is mother, and mother is great. Greatness is a mother's patent, and greatness is specially created for her. When I am away from home, whenever I think of my mother's silver hair, whenever I "look" at her gaunt face, whenever I meet her melancholy eyes, tears have already filled my eyes and flowed into my heart. Mother is illiterate, an illiterate who can't even write her own name well. One plus one equals several, and she has to count her fingers for half a day. I can't shout the number in my mouth, and I can't dance with pen and ink; Mother holding a pen is as clumsy as Confucius holding a hoe. It is said that Confucius is the most learned and moral. Confucius is nothing compared with his mother! Confucius helped the emperor do so many bad things that his mother never did. Mother's good deeds are as many as the stars in the sky! Mother is a farmer. Mother not only raised our brother and sister with hard-working hands, but also contributed a lot of life steel to society. Maybe your mother's sweat is dripping in your rice bowl. Mom is a poor man. Mother's salary is paid to herself. She has spent 60 years on her own, and together, she can't afford a rich man's banquet. That's the eggs laid by some chickens raised by my mother. My mother can't bear to eat them, so she went to the farmer's market to get them. Whenever the mother holds the hard-won "gold", she always pats the wings of the chicken with a rare smile and whispers, "Good chicken lays more eggs!" Oh! Mom, do you remember? It was a winter night, and I was still asleep when I was gently awakened by a warm hand. That's mom's hand. I barely opened my sleepy eyes. Ah! In front of us is a bowl of glistening, sparkling and pearl-like food, which is hot and delicious. I asked, "What is this?" "Eat while it's hot." I scraped it into my stomach with my brain. "It's delicious! Is there anything else? " "no!" My mother answered me guiltily. That was the first time I saw rice and ate delicious rice for the first time! My mother works in the production team and works overtime late at night. Everyone has a bowl. What delicious rice that is! My mother was young and beautiful at that time! In the past twenty years, my mother has given up her youth and beauty for her children! Eating rice now is just like eating rice and drinking water. I have never eaten that delicious rice again. What an unforgettable night it was! Just because of the most delicious rice in that bowl. Mom! Can you give me that delicious rice again? I would like to put on your silver hair for you in exchange for your youth and beauty at that time! Mom! Tonight is a starry night! My companions and I sang and laughed. The Spring Festival is coming again. I will go home this Spring Festival. I don't know how to express my feelings yet! No matter how good the gift is, it can't change your past youth and beauty! Mom, please don't bother yourself! My son can't take care of you in other places! My son works hard and never forgets! Let you no longer be depressed about daily necessities. Mom, mom! You should have a good laugh! When I was a child, I heard that the moon is like my mother, the stars in the sky are all her children, and the stars are like many brothers and sisters, loving each other in a big family. My mother was speechless when she traveled for the first time after growing up. You sewed the clothes with your own hands, and even your selfless heart like the moon and all your love were put into my bag. In that starry dream, how many times did you cover the quilt that fell on one side for me, and the tears I missed knocked on the road under my feet. Every tear is a poem praising mother. Motherly love is a blood connection and a blessing for children. Motherly love is like the wind in spring. Motherly love is green, when she gently blows across the earth. It is a cloud in the sky, always letting the scorching sun pass her body first, a peaceful maternal love, always letting the washed earth lie in her arms, and writing colorful life dreams for her poetic mother in the high sky. I wanted to write a poem for you a long time ago, but I didn't write my mother well many times. I don't know how to start this poem for you, how to end it or what to write, just like when I was a child, I didn't know whether to accept it bravely or choose to escape from my mother. I thought of you again tonight, and I decided to write a poem for you, even if it is not well written, even if you can never read it in your hometown ... Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, no! This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wan Shui Qian Shan, ask him to take her love and sorrow home. Bing Xin, your pale fingertips manage my sideburns. I can't help holding on to your skirt like when I was a child. My mother tried to keep you from disappearing. Although the morning light has cut my dream into smoke, I still dare not open my eyes for a long time. I still cherish that bright red scarf, for fear that washing it will make it lose your unique warmth. The running water of mother's years is as ruthless as fear of fading memory. How dare I open its screen easily? I cried to you for a thorn. Now I wear a watch and dare not make a sound. Oh, Mom, I often look up at your photos sadly. Even if I call for penetrating the loess, how dare I disturb your sleep? I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this. Although I have written many songs for flowers, the sea and the dawn, my sweet, soft and deep memory of my mother is not a torrent or a waterfall, but a dry well that can't be sung among flowers and trees-Shu Ting's mother is humble as moss, solemn as dawn, soft as the voice of the south of the Yangtze River, hard as a thousand years of cold jade, bright moon when she looks up, and vast land when she looks down. -Love (1) Your greatness condenses my flesh and blood, and your greatness shapes my soul. Your life is a journey of love. You weave a calendar with beautiful rings that smell of ink. I spend every year in your love, playing on your shoulders and knees. (2) You are a big tree. You dream of prosperity in summer and maturity in autumn. Winter depends on you to meditate on your height and width. Canopy ~ Let the fields never be barren. Mom, you gave me life. You are the land where I grew up. (3) M: 5 When I am sad, you are comforting. When I am depressed, you are my hope. You are the power to shelter me from the wind and rain in your little harbor when I am weak. You have broadened my horizons. You are my best friend forever, the driving force of life. (4) With love and caution, bend over to protect you and show your bright mind. Your exuberant energy and bright smile. Your boiling blood keeps running (5) 94 Let me immerse myself in your joy, enjoy your warmth, revel in your arms, and snuggle up in your arms (6) There are faint poems in the long clouds, and there is continuous love and affection in the poems (7) yLl If my mother is rain, I will be a rainbow after the rain, and if my mother is the moon, I will hold it. Mother Star is the root of my growth, and I am the ideal fruit of my mother (8) m~\ B When I grow up, my mother's black hair is like frost on a maple leaf, but the stars are shining silver. I deeply kissed the traces of those years. J) `Give you my heart. May sweetness and fragrance haunt your life, and may my silvery laughter fill your brow. May all my blessings rub into your heart, and a green leaf is full of its friendship with the roots. An ode condensed my love for you. "Let the flower in your heart bloom like a cloud and make it fragrant." Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring? The sun-dried clothes are still tattered, but the collar is still warm. I can't bear to take it lightly when sewing again, and there are old thread marks of loving mothers on it. Author: (Qing) Zhou Shouchang mother clock When you are disappointed, no matter how tall you are, your mother's mind can still surround you. I am willing to be your "master clock" and I will not stop working until the clock breaks down.