GOOGLED Ifthe mother is like the land.Father, heaven. Althougha bit farassky, thoughresolutelysomewhatstrict, fatherhadtimely rainwindthunder,tears, do notcry easily. Father attached tothe world offolks, fathershoulderthe burden of family, trembling, heavy,down a steep hill, climbingboulders andcare ofchildrenwithoutleisure,fade awayin front ofthe horizonis still,cryfatherchokedsound,mindlookingaportrait with sorrow, whichfatherlylargeinfinity