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Ten miles on the causeway, the night enveloped the field, headlights like recklessly rabbit jumped into this solemn green. My head gently leaning against the window, with the eyes of intoxication to see you, see this appearance is still you. Shall I kiss you on your forehead, my hometown?

Dad opened the car door, softly said: "the road is too long, come out to rest." I responded to the voice, was wild mountain wind pulled a full, looking at the river dike before the water wave tenderness of the Yangtze River, cargo ships, fishing boats in the night light warning light, flickering flickering; The bustling city of that shore has the night world that does not extinguish all night and the car group of sichuan stream, 

Sending out streamer. Turning around, here is a sleep has been quiet, crickets whispering, the breeze picked up the mountain forest thoughts, long over the skirt of grass with the wind shaking but shaking under the rustle of homesickness. Standing here, my chest is bursting with homesickness. I can not use simple "see you", "listen to you", "smell you", "touch you" to describe my feelings, only that gentle "read you" word said my heart.

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After three years of absence, you have fallen asleep, do you know? To know? A wanderer is sleeping on your face quietly watching, reading you by the time carved out of the silk wrinkles, reading you to feed children and grandchildren in the eyes of the new sorrow?

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The fireflies conspired, and in the twinkling of an eye of mine, hand in hand, together lit the mountain fire. For a moment, there was no secret in the mountains, and a bright light shone on every corner, but it did not dawn my hometown. In the summer night of rolling mountains, I bathed in the mountain wind and watched a mountain fire in silence, but the fire was not hot and manic, but more added a bit of quiet.

Fire on the ground, the Milky Way in the sky. Look up and look, bright golden light scattered all over the place, the vast momentum to draw me in, the blue deep sky croon the poem, and finally sleep. O hometown, are these starlights the tears of your dreams yearning for wanderers? This missing is so clear that it emits such a glow! Because I read from the night sky you give me, you whisper in a dream of sorrow. "When we took you to the city to study, it was at night, and the fireflies and the stars shone like this." Baba leaned against the car, staring up at the night sky as the flickering fluorescent lights swam around him.

I was stunned. Hometown, I understand your ardent heart, but how can your eyes shed tears? You use the summer most warm beautiful scene to send me to leave, hope I return early, which know it is a don't three years? How can I not be grateful that you welcome me back today in the same way?

Moonlight white flowers, like sensible orphans swinging under the trees on both sides of the causeway. The lights in the farmed houses had been extinguished and they were asleep to the feeble chirp of cicadas and crickets. Weeds still waving, quietly celebrating my return. Only the flickering fireflies shine in my eyes for the last rites. Such were your words, in a thousand forms but one motherly whisper: "You have come back!"

When Sakya picked up the flowers, Kaya smiled. People asked: Why did Kaya smile? "Because he wants to laugh," said Master Daning. As I do now, reading how you are a cause for joy, and I have no reason, under your many forms of speech, silent and lonely tears.