I will think of you in the clouds. You have a mother's heart. Read ancient poems and feel Du Nong's maternal love.

Romain rolland said that maternal love is a huge flame. Motherly love is the belief that children are still held up with both hands between life and death, and the persistence of leaving the hope of life to children.

This song was adapted by Han Hong from a true story, in which the little boy Pan Zihao lost his parents in an accident. Become an orphan. It was a day in June, 1999, 10. Pan Zihao and his parents are visiting Maling scenic spot in Guizhou. The three of them took a cable car and enjoyed the scenery in the mountains.

No one expected that bad luck would befall this happy family. Pan Zihao's cable car fell and his parents were killed. It was his parents who lifted him up when he was two and a half years old that he survived.

Han Hong was deeply moved and adopted Pan Zihao. When they first met, Pan Xiaozihao hid in the corner, saw Han Hong, ran to hold her and cried. Children can feel kindness. From then on, Han Hong became Zihao's mother and gave him a warm home.

In this world, mother is the child's sense of security and the warmest support in the child's heart.

I clearly remember that it was the summer of 1998, and my mother had breast cancer surgery and then chemotherapy and radiotherapy. My mother is very sad. Her hair has completely fallen off. Some women in the village always gather around her and lift her wig to see how she looks without hair.

Summer vacation, I came home, my mother cried: I'm going to die. What will you do if I leave? I wiped my mother's tears to comfort her. It's okay. You're gonna be okay. At night, I cried secretly until midnight alone. I never thought about what I would do without my mother.

In the spring of 2002, my mother left us forever. Whenever I walk in the street and look at my aunt who is about my mother's age, or my mother's back, I can't help but follow others, expecting to turn around and see my mother's familiar smiling face. But every time, either a wandering figure disappears before my eyes, or a strange face looks at me coldly.

In 2020, I worked overtime all year because of the epidemic. I am very sad to see the news of the unfortunate death of Zhang Jingjing who supported Wuhan. However, when I heard her five-year-old daughter crying and shouting, Mom, don't leave me-I couldn't help crying. I seem to see that I was so deeply grieved many years ago.

In Wuhan, there is a girl whose mother has novel coronavirus and needs to be hospitalized in isolation. Before leaving home, her mother repeatedly told her daughter some common sense of life. She left a note for fear that her daughter would not remember clearly. The flour for making cakes was out of date, so I took it. This food has a shelf life. After a person survives, buy small packages and sort things so as not to forget them. Some of them at home are too useless and wasteful. Don't disturb your mother. Life should be carefully calculated.

After the girl's mother was admitted to hospital, her condition worsened and she died after being rescued. In this world, there is another child who has no mother like me. I don't know, how many sad nights does this girl have to walk alone to resolve her grief?

May 9, 20021year is Mother's Day again. In the sunny early summer, I caught a cold and sneezed all the time. Is mom thinking about me? I happened to see a news that a boy of 12 years old left home in the middle of the night and took a taxi to the countryside to visit his mother's grave. The child was kindly handed over to the police. After the police knew the child's thoughts, their eyes were moist, they hugged the child tightly and comforted the child with warm arms.

This 12-year-old boy, his father just married him a new mother. The child is sad because of something and wants to tell his mother that he is too scared to think of his mother's grave in the middle of the night. He just wants to talk about his grievances and thoughts.

The heart of a long-term and loving mother will never change. Meng Mu moved three times and her mother-in-law got a tattoo. In these ancient stories, there is a loving mother who is deeply loved by her calf. The mother in The Book of Songs is a gentle spring breeze, a flowing spring, and a yellow bird calling her son.

The warm spring breeze blew from the south and awakened the jujube trees. Jujube trees give birth to tender buds, which seem delicate, but grow every day. Mothers work hard to raise their children, just like the spring breeze takes care of jujube trees.

The warm spring breeze blows from the south, and jujube trees gradually grow into pillars. Mother treats every child selflessly and equally like Feng Chun. Young trees can still become talents, but how can children complain about their mothers if they fail to become talents?

Weiguo has cold springs and clear springs, which have nourished generations of Weiguo people. A mother raised seven children, just like a clear spring nourished patriotic people. She never works hard and never complains.

The little yellow bird grew up, and her voice was euphemistic, as if thanking the little yellow bird for its upbringing. The seventh brother who has grown up, if he doesn't know how to comfort his mother's heart, is not as good as oriole.

In The Book of Songs, the mother is compared to the south wind, and the child is compared to the jujube tree. Jujube trees sprout buds and grow up for wages. Small trees become useful, just as children grow up from young children. The metaphor here is vivid.

Comparing mother to cold spring and yellow bird is intended to warn the world that we should be grateful to cold spring like patriots and to our mother like birds are grateful to yellow birds. At the same time, the description from the side makes the image of the mother more three-dimensional and vivid, and also highlights the hardship and difficulty of the mother.

Don't comfort your mother's heart. The poet wrote with remorse that he was unable to repay his mother. Just like Meng Jiao said, but an inch of grass is a little sentimental, and it is rewarded with three spring rays. Compared with the obscurity of The Book of Songs, Meng Jiao, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, is approachable and easy to understand.

Meng Jiao's "A Wanderer" is the voice of many vagrants. Meng Jiao, who is in her fifties, finally stopped wandering around and worried her mother at home. He took his mother to Liyang, where he worked, so that she could live in peace of mind.

Just three crosses, every word contains true feelings. Meng Jiao wrote a loving mother image that touched the whole world in a simple and understandable way. The thread in the loving mother's hand and the clothes on the wanderer's body are the ties between the mother and the wanderer's soul, which refers to the kinship linked by flesh and blood. At the end of the poem, a mother's love is compared to a bright spring, and a wanderer is compared to grass, with a cordial image.

Wang Mian, a painter in the Yuan Dynasty, was born in a poor peasant family and herded cattle during the day. Wang Mian, who loves learning, always secretly goes to private schools to attend classes when cows are grazing. Sometimes because the teacher was too careful, he forgot the cow, and the owner of the cow hit Wang Mian in a rage. Wang Mian, who loves to learn, always forgets the existence of cows again and again, and just wants to learn more.

This is not the way to continue. Wang Mian's mother supported him to study, let him live in a temple and study under the ever-burning lamp at night. Wang Mian is brilliant, and his paintings are lifelike and unique. Growing up in a poor environment, he knows his mother's difficulties better. He once wrote two poems, which are very touching from the perspective of wandering and missing his mother.

This poem is very special. It is divided by the love of loving mothers to the door and the hardships of homeless children. The first two sentences are about day lilies and the south wind. The seemingly simple description of the scenery is actually a metaphor for the mother who misses her son. The last two sentences, from the perspective of the wanderer, write the wanderer's guilt about his mother.

Hemerocallis growing in front of the hall thrive in the spring breeze, and delicate flowers are hidden in the green leaves. The south wind blows, and the day lilies sway with the wind, and the flowers are pleasant. I wonder who it gave the fragrance to. The implication here is, who can send a message to his son?

The wanderer has been away for many years and hasn't come home for a long time. The old mother waits in the sunset every day, expecting her son to appear. At sunset, another day passed and my son still didn't come back. The old mother leaned against the door with tears in her eyes, silently praying for her son, hoping that he would have a safe trip and come home as soon as possible.

The road is rugged and long, and the road home is full of difficulties. In order to make a living, wanderers have been wandering outside for many years, and their desire to support their parents is still slim. It is difficult for the old mother at home to even hear the news of the wanderer. In The Analects of Confucius, it is said that parents are here, and it is ok not to travel far. In ancient times, when filial piety was emphasized, traffic was underdeveloped. Walking and horseback riding are the main ways to travel, and sometimes traveling means farewell. Because when you receive an urgent letter from home, it is too late for the wanderer to rush home.

Parents are alive and can't travel far. If you want to travel far away, you must tell your parents where you want to go and don't let them worry. The last two sentences of the poem, looking up at Yunlin, are worth listening to the wisdom of birds, and euphemistically express the wandering heart of shame.

Hemerocallis in front of the hall are lush and delicate flowers are in full bloom. This is a scene where a wanderer misses his mother and imagines his home. My mother is old, looking forward to it day and night, hoping to go home as soon as possible. However, the wanderer can't help himself. He has to be busy with his business, and this man always has to do something.

In desperation, I can only drown my sorrows in wine. Time flies, time flies, another year. In fact, true filial piety has nothing to do with status. No matter whether you live in a temple or in the country, as long as you have filial piety, you can put it into action at any time.

Frost came last night, the weather was getting colder and colder, and the river was getting colder and colder, and there were no ships coming and going. Who can understand the pain in my heart when I am old, but I can't be filial?

In ancient times, vagrants often expressed their feelings with poems, and their mobility was poor. But there are exceptions Monks and Gong in Yuan Dynasty, although they have got rid of the world of mortals, still do not forget filial piety. It is a good lesson for wanderers who are homesick and feel unable to be filial. After reading what Gong has done, I can't help feeling that there is nothing impossible in this world, and everything that I haven't done is because of excuses.

His father died soon after he became a monk. The old mother at home has difficulties, saves money politely and often helps her. Last May, the plum rains continued, and my mother became poorer. Gong and Gong had to pawn the cassock and get some coarse grains to go home. When he got home, his old mother was leaning against the door, waiting for him. Although the hut is broken, where there is a mother, there is warmth, which is the warmest harbor. Mother and son had a brief happiness.

Now, with the death of Gong's mother, he is left alone in this world. Winter is coming again, but there is no mother at home, waiting for her to come back by Chai Men.

This poem by He Gong uses flashbacks to start with the feelings of his mother after her death, and uses first frost reed flowers to render the bleak environment and inner sadness, which leads to the memories of last year when her mother stopped waiting for him.

Memories are the warmest and most hurtful, because the people in memories can never be touched, but they are deeply engraved in your mind and lingering. This poem by Gong is unpretentious, sincere and touching.

I will think of you in the clouds. You have a mother's heart. Today, we can find long-lost memories and comfort our hearts through yellowed old photos. In ancient times, when a wanderer thought of his mother, he could look at the clothes on his body, which were sewn by his mother and had her residual temperature on them. The robe is still there and the collar is still warm. Sometimes, clothes are torn and I can't bear to mend them. How can you have the heart to tear up the old thread? Re-sewing can't be taken lightly, there are old line marks on it.

Ciwu is the most grateful bird, right? Li Shizhen once recorded in Compendium of Materia Medica that this bird was born, its mother fed it for 60 days, and its mother fed it back for 60 days, which is filial piety.

The second time I lost my mother, I cried every night. Wandering in the old nest where my mother once lived and refusing to leave. The second time I lost my mother, I vomited because I was dumb. Don't fly day and night, keep the old forest old. Every night, Ciwu's sad cry makes people feel sad and tears wet their skirts. Crying in the middle of the night every night, everyone who smells it will be moved. Of all the birds in the world, which bird has no mother? When they grow up, birds fly away from their old nests and start a new life. They have never seen them fly back to feed their elderly mother bird.

Because of kindness, humble crows are regarded as kind. Bai Juyi used a cordial night cry to feel her mother's artistic conception and set off her inner sadness. His mother's early death made his desire to support her a pity.

The 87th edition of A Dream of Red Mansions left, Tan Chun married far away, and Aunt Zhao and Jia Huan came to see me off. The three men looked at each other and tears ran down their eyes. Jia Huan sobbed, and Aunt Zhao couldn't help but burst into tears, but Tanchun's voice broke many people's hearts.

Humble as Aunt Zhao, facing the daughter who is about to marry far away, she knows that this is farewell, and she will never see her own daughter again in this life. From now on, we will be divided into two places, each keeping safe. How sad is it? Tanchun stood on the boat and drifted away. Aunt Zhao hid in the crowd, covered her face with her hands and sobbed in a low voice. Xi Feng stared her one eye, so scared that she couldn't help crying.

At that moment, Aunt Zhao was no longer the troublesome, unscrupulous and disgusting aunt at ordinary times, but a poor, respectable, sad and deplorable mother. There is nothing she can do if her daughter marries far away. She doesn't even have the right to cry loudly. She can only hide her love and worry about her daughter in a forbearing cry.

Lonely friends are early strangers who will fall in love again. The accent of lips and teeth is old, and the white hair of sideburns is new. When the vagrant returned to his hometown, the local accent did not change, but the children in the village regarded him as a distant visitor and asked him where he came from with a smile. What a painful and helpless thing it is.

The tree wants to keep quiet, but the wind will not stop; My son wants to serve his parents when they are old, but they are gone. Don't wait, don't repeat the regret that you didn't feed back your heart.