A poem I wrote myself
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\"Sorrow\": Ten years of striving for wealth and strength; often away from home, with few visits. The old man wanders the fields, looking up at the sky and sighing downward. His grandson refuses to return; he wonders how much longer he can live. Suddenly, the weather changes, and he falls ill suddenly; his strong body is no more, his mind confused as if covered in frost. Who cares while he’s half awake or asleep? He passes his days in laughter, anger, and curses, with only his grandson’s name on his lips. In less than a year, another problem arises; now he can no longer lie down. He sits by the bed for three days, repeating his grandson’s name, asking over and over again where he is. . . The old man has departed for the west on a crane; his grandson is busy working in another place. Tears flow, two pairs of glasses lie there; silent tears, a heart filled with pain. Even if one were to obtain ten thousand taels of gold, it still wouldn’t be what the old man desired
Ah,,,,,,,,,,
Sigh, an exhalation of sorrow—since ancient times, it has been difficult to reconcile loyalty and filial piety. . . :(
Searching endlessly, in solitude and desolation; sad and miserable, wandering around, alone and lonely, in silence and emptiness
Receiving ten million taels of gold is really not what the old man had in mind; he should go home more often
Children may wish to care for their parents, but the parents are no longer there. . . .
What is the purpose of living a life?» There must always be trade-offs
It has the flavor of Su Dongpo’s poem \"Jiang Cheng Zi\": Ten years apart, life and death separate us; though I don’t think about it, I still can’t forget it. This is the conflict between reality and family ties; there’s nothing to do about it – one has to live