To our fathers

The green smoke has not dissipated, and the soul is fixed on Nanshan Road.

The sound is whispered around the ears and the instructions are in the heart.

Once joy and anger, nostalgic for the dream hug.

Wind and rain and walk in the twilight years, full of green mountains and immortal pine. The green mountains are still there, it is nearly dusk, and the sunset is infinitely better.

Looking back on the lost years, the journey and ups and downs and hardships traveled by the fathers are full of glorious footprints and glory. Their generation is the banner of the years of history, a mirror on the road of our lives, and a signpost and beacon in the direction of our children's progress.

When our memories come out of reality, you have reunited, separated for only five or ten years, can you hug each other when you meet again, will you also remember your poor and noisy era picture, your faith, the confusion you have pursued, wandering, is youth, is excitement. Years have been written and youth has been portrayed. Along the way, let us see clearly the sentimentality and desolation, poverty and loneliness, struggle and luck, suffering and comfort, and the loss, pain, pursuit and longing of a generation after many ignorances of radicalization.

The vicissitudes of the sea and the mulberry fields are like years of water flowing. Those hairy boys who were not harmonious with the world at the beginning are now white-sided, over the age of flower armor, faltering, and full of labor. But Fathers, you are slowly getting old and gathering in the south mountains. The river of time has carried too many vicissitudes, and now you will fight and cry like you did when you were children. There are too many footprints in the old times that have been left behind, and the past of the song has gradually drifted away with the wind, and the dye of time has made you look at us yin and yang. The dust has been obliterated, and the once fiery rings of years have been stirred. Today's generation, I would like to pay deep respect to the fathers who have passed away, and your stories are always worth remembering and telling, recalling and telling.

Step into the old shadows of time, touch the imprints of your fathers, and trace the past.

Although the circumstances of each child are different, what we have in common is that we will continue to search in the footsteps of our fathers and find your ideal past.

Above our heads, in addition to the bright starry sky, there are also the deep and expectant eyes of our fathers. Our veins are filled with the bright red blood of our fathers and filled with a hot heart of sincerity.

Go well, Father, you are in heaven, we are on the road, looking at each other in pairs, silently thinking.

Go well, fathers, the memories of time, the imagination of the years, snuggling up on the shoulders, soothing the sentimentality.