The way home...

The way home

It is on a long, long hill

There is a kind little river on the hillside

Whenever I walked by there

The river would sing for me

How I love that crooked river

Although it has long since left it

But it has always flowed in my dreams

Don't let my soul hunger and thirst!

It's in an endless field

There are always white clouds there

You can also see the hopeful sunrise and the magnificent sunset

Memories of childhood

Never apply

Sit in a corner of the field

Admire the flying butterflies

One poem after another will emerge in the mind

Clean and pure

Lead a white goat

Or drive a creaky bullock cart

You can always experience the feeling of being in paradise!

Although fate has been reversed

Although in the city endured hellish life

But only the trail back home

High hillside

My heart will be comforted, and I will rejoice!"