呵，母亲

舒婷

                                                                                           你苍白的指尖理着我的双鬓

                                                                                           我禁不住像儿时一样

                                                                                           紧紧拉住你的衣襟

                                                                                           呵，母亲

                                                                                           为了留住你渐渐隐去的身影

                                                                                           虽然晨曦已把梦剪成烟缕

                                                                                           我还是久久不敢睁开眼睛

                                                                                           我依旧珍藏着那鲜红的围巾

                                                                                           生怕浣洗会使它

                                                                                           失去你特有的温馨

                                                                                           呵，母亲

                                                                                           岁月的流水不也同样无情

                                                                                           生怕记忆也一样退色呵

                                                                                           我怎敢轻易打开它的画屏

                                                                                           为了一根刺我曾向你哭喊

                                                                                           如今带着荆冠，我不敢

                                                                                           一声也不敢呻吟

                                                                                           呵，母亲

                                                                                           我常悲哀地仰望你的照片

                                                                                           纵然呼唤能够穿透黄土

                                                                                           我怎敢惊动你的安眠

                                                                                           我还不敢这样陈列爱的祭品

                                                                                           虽然我写了许多支歌

                                                                                           给花、给海、给黎明

                                                                                           呵，母亲

                                                                                           我的甜柔深谧的怀念

                                                                                           不是激流，不是瀑布

                                                                                           是花木掩映中唱不出歌声的枯井

树

艾青

一棵树，一棵树

彼此孤离地兀立着

风与空气

告诉着它们的距离

但是在泥土的覆盖下

它们的根伸长着

在看不见的深处

它们把根须纠缠在一起

（1940年春）