Chapter 6 wife, don't cry

The poem is the result of three years of labor on the farm.Carrying burdens to carry out transformation is like swallowing pills and taking strong tea. Although we know that "the way of medicine is great!" The accumulated habits have neutralized the nature of the medicine, and the disease cannot be cured. This poem was written by bow at night under the quilt under the torch.No wonder the comrades are amazed that I change the batteries twice a week, maybe they really think I'm going to sneak around every night. At that time, the family was depressed, and the days were too long!Looking forward to the future is like looking at the river in the fog, empty and surging.I use the dusty memories of love decades ago as some encouragement and comfort. Although I know that the pomp and the heart are too small, I hope it will really help.

in childhood, I have a small room, and a small bed, With a bright little window. from window I saw the "garden of thorns" with green trees and fresh grass, And the roofs of other people's houses decorated with moss and tiger ears; The lace-like city wall in the distance, Outside the city is a river of glitter and play, Farther away, the endless foggy Blue Mountains. Morning and night I often look out the window, Meet the world for the first time from the window. I see clouds, I listen to the flute played by the Miao people on the city wall, I listen to the crowing of cocks all over the city at dawn,

I listen to the hustle and bustle of the distant city after sunrise, There are also wind chimes on the turrets of the ancient temple. I read the psalm written by the clouds, I saw the dragon girl driving the flock past the window, look at the gods naked gleaming body, wallow in them carnival dinner, and also Moses the law-enforcer sits in the holy temple, Lightning is his wink, The thunderbolt is his sentence, With the wrath of the tempest, Dealing majestically with the joys and sorrows of the gods. ================ night comes, the lonely, aging moon, Walking along the edge of the forest,

Old sorrows bent his back, Infinite philosophies drained his enthusiasm, To this day, only a little gleam of wisdom remains, embellished for a limited time Lonely old age. morning, In the familiar grass, I found crystal clear teardrops, well!I just found out, Even the old moon cries! now, I've been away from that for too long Even the air is a green and moist "thorn garden", That little patch is full of little yellow and little purple flowers, Flying kingdoms of bumble bees and white butterflies, Leave the small window where we have spent many sunny and rainy days together.

I take small steps The footsteps of a twelve-year-old man, on a careless morning, leave the one who loves me forever The hometown of a smile. long road to long road, Tomorrow without rest follows another tomorrow, How many windows have I lived in, I cherish and tidy up everything smiling in the past, How many windows lead me to the horizon of thought. Once upon a time there was such an autumn, This is a grand autumn, A special open for eighteen-year-olds, Autumn with bright red leaves flying, You, the brown, girl with big eyes, Come to my window. We've known each other in childhood dreams,

We are the prehistoric era stars looking for each other in space, We have been in love for a hundred thousand years. We pass on Tom.Sawyer solemn letter, ================== We warmly repeat the foolish words of a pair of idiots in Eden, We chased through fields and jungles, We pretended to be angry but made up seriously, We walked down the street arm in arm, Blushing but not shy at all. you good cook, swallow me mercifully the first time for you made chili boiled fish, Such a fishy fish, you actually say "yes!" With rich poverty and rude faithfulness I to receive you,

But I won't even praise your beauty. Our hut was so dark in the beginning, But groping for the future and the bright heaven in the hut, We lick sorrow with warm tongues, I clasp your weak hand with my rough hand, How many unnecessary sorrows have been overcome. Your smile is like the small window and the "thorn garden" in my hometown in March, Made me overcome the parting of youth, To valiantly conquer Apollo's castle, Your song makes the wings of my life iridescent, Your far-reaching eyes tame my wildness from the hill country. The years go back and forth, We're used to bohemian wanderings,

Forever we sing of the broken and beautiful paradise, For that which is already ancient, The remembrance of the little window adorned with the diamond night city, For the nostalgia for the papaya tree and well spring in front of the window, The sea, the mountains, those graceful clouds and mists, Those June evenings and April rains... It is the pillar of our happy creation! many blue nights, I began to plow the woody fields, My sweat drops on this boundless, On the soulful land, Like a real peasant, Always worry about the harvest of this plow and hoe. you are by my side, I am beside your dream,

the kettle on the stove like a dove Crying in the fields where we live, ==================== It's so quiet all around, Dreams, wandering in the jungle of books like night fog. Your sleeping breath is like a soft call to me, The sound of my laboring plow, is the answer to your calling. The harvest that I often finish at night, I wake you up every time, When my harvest is spread before my bed, With sleepy joy you, like an arab girl Hugging the quilt and only showing two eyes, Share with me the gift of harvest. nature, Everything in the world has a bad harvest, I also wake you up with failure wrath,

You are like an unfortunate peasant woman, Soothe your poor companion. You often hold me so rough that it doesn't suit my age big hands, Maternally saddened by the trauma of these large hands, How much I value your never-too-than-excessive encouragement, Just as I never praised your beauty, You know, all beauty, Can't even cry out! Nowadays, Time is like the autumn wind blowing by the grassy lake, Your brown cheeks have the first ripples, Your proud black hair is stained with the first autumn frost, Although we are still far away Burns to MaryThe Age of Morrison's Love Song,

And far from poor Petrov with his sled, The age to send his wife to the city to see a doctor, Although It's as if we're just learning a little bit principles of parenthood, We also play naughty with the children, grimacing just as mischievously. We are also fascinated by a fun toy, Although... even a hundred "thoughs", Dear, After all, we have entered mature middle age. Let us both turn around together, ===================== Say goodbye to the youth in the past with a smile! Greetings to the light, a compliment; a tactful farewell; A heroic, never-returning attachment; A happy dirge. our love, as tenacious as our lives, Life is full of love, Love tests the constancy of life. we have had sorrow, But we scorn sorrow, She is just a gossamer that occasionally floats gently on our hair tips, Inadvertently drifted away with the wind. We had so much laughter, We have too much laughter for middle age And the imagined journey, In the sweat of each of our labor, all smiles, Middle age is the season of maturity! we rowed, Sailing the rivers of life, We are the masters of the river, We appreciate the overlapping, heaving waves, From the bottom of the boat we browse the imaginary winds, Also from both sides of the canyon cliff Smell the fragrance of orchids. The boat passed the vast, sunny plain, Sometimes it also drives into the small river with orange pomelo and lychee, Seeing the intoxicating red tiles and white walls, A smoky hut... our happy boat, Today stand two young sailors, They are so similar to when we were young, The black hair of the glossy southerner, The brow and eyes of the voyager, The broad shoulders for the wind and rain, They stared in the direction of the sea of ​​wishes, One day it will take over our rudder and oars. Middle age is the season of contentment! Let us take comfort in the simplicity and kindness of our hearts, I kiss you, Kiss your childish but cracked hand, Kiss your silent and brave heart, kiss your everlasting beauty, because of you, The story of me and my children's happiness will be circulated in the world. December 12, 1970 in Ci County