2, father, I often stare at the familiar old house, lying on the hot heatable adobe sleeping platform, looking for me on the yellow paper on the roof.
3. Walking into the wind, the details are flying in the air, and you dare not look directly into your eyes. Ask the breeze, dear father, can you read my mind?
4, the years are even more stacked, and the thoughts of loved ones stretch for countless times with the flow of light and shadow, and then stretch for a long time, as far as Guanghan Palace.
I miss my parents. This is a long journey. I need my children to see me off. On the road, there are no beautiful scenery, only deep thoughts.
6. Father, by the river in the east, the footprints are still there. On the dam in the south, did my boat with pen-and-ink drawings blow away by the wind and not be submerged?