就在昨晚我还伸手摸了摸枕下的稻草绳,胸中的热血流遍全身……母亲啊,您可曾知您坐在门前编制稻草绳,那蓝布褂,那双敏捷而勤快的手将稻草一点一点地编成草绳——那幅画面伴随了我十几个春秋啊。母亲啊,那是永不褪色的记忆.伴我一年又一年……还记得您那次生病,恰好我放假回家,父亲给了我一把零钱,让我买点您爱 Just last night I also reached out and touched the straw rope under my pillow. The blood in my chest flowed through my body... Mother, you knew that you were sitting in front of the door and we were preparing a straw rope. The blue cloth was awkward and diligent. The hand braided the straw little by little into a straw rope—the picture was accompanied by me for a dozen years. Mother, it’s a memory that will never fade. It’s with me year after year... I remember you were sick and I happened to go home on a holiday. My father gave me a small change, and let me buy some of your love.