Yang Mo Yao Suqiu's Poems

The curved moon, the curved moon, is the sickle that my grandmother accompanied me through my childhood, cutting fragrance and sweetness. When I grow up, grandma hangs it on the horizon, hanging it on the horizon;

Bend the moon, bend the moon, that is my father's fishing boat to lead me to dream, full of fish and shrimp, carrying a smiling face, I fell asleep, my father shook it to the horizon, shook it to the horizon;

The moon is bent, the moon is bent, that is my wish, and my spaceship is full of beauty. For grandma, for dad. I want them to have a brand new childhood, a brand new childhood.