Huanxi Sha reminisces about the past

Mo on the cold spring urging the small building,

The morning warbler does not sing the empty sorrow of the tree,

Where to drive, where to drive, where to throw.

The green water has not dried up and the wind has wrinkled,

The green mountains are not old and the snow is white.

People travel with the leaf of destiny.

old and sick,

drugs on the face,

Year after year, digging deep into wrinkles.

Reheat the soup,

I can't melt the snow in my ears.

The crutches grew into feet,

Pick him up and go out.

Only let the stars send him to two places.

family

and grandma's grave.

"I listen on the phone a lot.

From uprooting and dwelling,

to fearless and unhurried.

Listen to my mother's life now,

Listen to the footsteps of my mother,

Listen to your mother's aging voice. ”

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