"Comrades, the wind is sluggish, the river is cold, and the water of the Yarkand River is gone. Today, with an extremely sad heart, in this solemn mourning hall, to bid farewell to Comrade Min Haoran on the last journey, on behalf of the county party committee and the county people, I would like to express my deep condolences to Comrade Min Haoran, and express my deep condolences to Min Haoran's relatives. Comrade Min Haoran came to Jiangnan County thousands of miles away, for the cause of the party and the people, burned the sundial, painstaking, and worked hard to pay his precious youth and life, his life is a short life, a life of struggle, but also a glorious life, fully demonstrates the political character of loyalty to the party and dedication to the people, he is persistent, hard-working, diligent and dedicated, he is my loyal comrade-in-arms, is the son of the people of southern Xinjiang, and is also the pride of the people of southern Xinjiang...... Min Haoran, Paradise Road is so far, there is no one on Huangquan Road, and I hope to go all the way. On the day of farewell, Yuan Jing personally saw off Min Haoran at the memorial service.

After the mourning ceremony, Min Haojing and Wan Qingguo took heavy steps and slowly pushed the coffin to the crematorium, and the family members behind them held hands and looked at each other without saying a word, only tears.

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"Mo is full of remnants flying, and azaleas are crying in the azaleas. At the end of the year, things will not return, and who will complain about the moon and worry about the smoke. The rainy season is thin, the breeze is light, and the people leaning on the building want to get their clothes. The old garden has been thanked for three times, and Manqian has not returned to the world. "It's another year of Qingming season, the plum rain is dripping, like rain, fog, and wind, some people can't wake up for a long time, and some people can't forget.

Thinking is also desolate, forgetting is lonely. On the road, some pedestrians wore hats, some held cloth umbrellas, some wore raincoats, carried wine, food, fruits, incense, paper money and other items, and hurried from the field path to the mountainside in high rain boots in a solemn mood.

There, there are their loved ones. Every Qingming season, people have to go there to repair the grave, cultivate new soil, remove weeds, is called tomb sweeping, to express the feelings of missing relatives.

"Shu once heard of Zigui birds, and Xuancheng also saw azaleas. One call, one ileum, one broken, three springs, three colors, three reminiscences. ”

"Child, you come to see the tenderness, the tenderness has been away from the forehead for several months, so long for the sharpness not to give the forehead a dream, let the forehead see the tender, the forehead really wants to be tender, the child. Is Nen lonely over there, is it cold in winter, don't be so desperate if you are sleepy now, when you want to be in the house, take the time to come back and have a look, and go back to the house with Nen Dad to see the forehead" In front ......of the tomb, Min Haoran's mother cried in a low voice, and the cuckoo bird cried on the mountain, and the crisp voice was heartbreaking.

Wan Qingguo, Xu Jiao, Zhao Ruyan and their daughters pressed yellow paper on the tomb, and the tomb was full of bright firewood red, with tears in the wind, as if crying. Here is Min Haoran's clothes, and next to the tomb is the tomb of Min Haoran's father.

"Whether the clouds of that day have been expected, so the steps are light, so as not to disturb our time, because it is destined to be so little. The wind is blowing and the white clouds are drifting, where have you been, when you miss you, oh look up and smile, I know if I don't know ......"

The soul went home, but Min Haoran's bones were indeed sprinkled forever under the Kunlun Mountain, thousands of miles away, and the people were silently watching the Tianshan Mountain.

"It's another year of drunkenness, and it's raining. The mountains are full of bright firewood, fresh and fresh, fresh and fresh, and the road under your feet is long and long. The sad Yin'er liver and intestines are broken, the liver and intestines are broken, the dead ghost butt is crooked, and the heart of the forehead is abused and the liver of the forehead, the heart and liver of the forehead, there is no missing silver in the house. The silver in the house is looking forward to reunion, and the tender is doing Xili outside, and he doesn't think about home, which breaks my heart and loses it. Looking forward to the end of the year, I don't look forward to it, I only hope for the pain and pity ......"

The crisp village girl dialect is a little song, and every word is more heart-warming than the cuckoo's cry of blood. What kind of story is it that makes people sing so heartbreakingly?