Ask a master to write a modern poem for his parents.

Sixteen spring and autumn years have passed.

The pain still gives me palpitations.

Lightning of memory

Always cut dreams into smoke.

I saw the swaying reeds again.

Light a childhood candle for me.

I seem to hear your warm reminder.

Like dew in the morning

Drop by drop.

38 winters and summers

It hurts to look at the grass.

I dare not speak my mind easily.

Afraid of the knife of the past

Then cut off my liver and gallbladder (1)

How can you bear to watch me suffer?

How can you bear to see me cry?

Remember the heavy rain when I was a child?

I am just a toddler.

But I found you in the west of the village.

You hold me in your arms.

Say, the value of raising children is actually here.

5700 days and nights, I don't know how many footprints are equal.

I wonder if mother and son can meet at another latitude.

Family poverty

It's a small fish that can't be caught.

Waiting to be fed.

It is your four children.

So many heavy objects

Never bend over.

until one day

You can't stand up anymore (2)

Fifty one years old

This is another flower season of life.

Who knows what we heard?

It's all bitter wind and rain.

I really want to be like my childhood.

Take you home again

Even if in fact, you did pick me up.

If only we had walked a long way together.

You said you wanted to see old Beijing.

Because you've never been that far.

In the early spring of 2008

I finally brought you to Beijing.

Although, I can only lie in bed.

You can only stand in the clouds.

Twelve life and death (3)

Six-month observation of mother and child

Your sadness

Enough to make every apricot blossom wither.

Your entrustment

It breaks every moonlight.

How many haggard nights

Has become the coat you put on me.

I called you again and again.

Mom, mom.

In fact, I really miss you

I know a cabin only one foot wide.

How can I accommodate so many of your ideas?

I know the magnolia in the chrysanthemum garden (5)

Full of your heavy sigh

You burned the heatable adobe sleeping platform.

Sixteen years later, it is still hot.

You tied the kite for me thirty years ago.

But why can't you fly?

A dry river

There is too much laughter between us.

The exam is always the first little angel.

It's your granddaughter you've never met.

That three-foot thick loess

What I can break with my eyes is glass.

That black stone tablet

Or the font (6) in my exercise book when I was a child.

Even if the flame can lick eight hands (7) at the same time.

The only person who chats with you in the middle of the night is Wu Ti.

What are flesh and blood relatives?

What is life and death?

What is constant homesickness?

What are endless memories?

It became a line that I/kloc-wrote for 0/6 years.

Live well. I am in your eyes every day (8)

Can we forget each other? When are you not in my dreams?

[Note: (1) Hepatectomy: I had a cholecystectomy in 2003. It hurts. Now it seems that it is better to miss my mother's heartache.

(2) Never stand up again: My mother has worked hard all her life and never said a bitter word. It wasn't until I couldn't stand up anymore that I found out it was terminal cancer.

(3) Twelve levels of life and death: During my hospitalization in Beijing, I was dying for twelve times, and I had an illusion that my mother stood by me and encouraged me to overcome my illness.

(4) Monopod: This refers to the mother's urn.

(5) Magnolia in Jumeiyuan: The hospital where I live has a big garden called Jumeiyuan. Once it rained, my relatives picked me a dripping magnolia and told me that spring was coming. But I thought the dripping water on the magnolia was my mother's tears.

(6) Font on the exercise book: On my mother's tombstone, I wrote my own inscription. When I was a child, my mother often taught me to write well and checked my exercise book, so I wrote well.

(7) It hurts to lick eight hands: the four of us went to burn paper on our mother's grave, and the flames burned all eight hands. Don't cry when we meet. But in the end, my sister couldn't help crying, and our brother and sister cried together.

In your eyes, I still remember the look in my mother's eyes before she died. No matter how far you go, you can't leave your mother's eyes. ]

Postscript: I wrote a modern poem to my mother, and suddenly I thought that my mother didn't like the seven laws, but she liked long and short sentences (my mother didn't like to be called Song Ci) and nursery rhymes. So, I don't have to write in these two styles that my mother liked before her death.

Long and short sentences: Sauvignon Blanc

The sea is thick and the tears are thick. I hate being thick. I miss my parents at night and am afraid of autumn.

The mother is also worried, and the child is also worried. Sadness turns to happiness. Reed flowers are bald, too!

Children's Song: "I am Xiaohua Mall"

Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow.

I am a little cat man.

My mother has loved me since I was a child.

I often hold my mother's waist.

Mother catches mice for me.

Hey, I've been through it again and again.

Ask me if it's delicious.

I said, great. That's great. That's great.