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我的母亲永远地远去,已经三十九天了。无论我有多少次幻听到她的脚步声,无论我有多少次幻视着她的身影,只要我急切地抓来纸巾拭去泪珠打开泪眼,都没有她的回音,没有她的身影,没有她的消息。我不安,我痛苦,我在灵魂深处大声呼唤着,喊天啊!叫地啊!却仍然没有回应。我想吸吮她留下的气息。我把我的衣服放在她睡过和坐过的地方,我把我的画放在她原来经常观看的地方,盼望着她能摸摸,能说些什么,能理理衣角,能指指画面。或者我什么也
It was thirty-nine days for my mother to go forever. No matter how many times I have auditioned to hear her footsteps, no matter how many times I have visual illusion of her figure, as long as I grabbed the paper towel to wipe away the teardrop to open the tearful eyes, did not have her echo, without her shadow, without Her message. I am upset, I am painful, I cry out loud in the depths of my soul, crying God! Blessed ah! But still no response. I want to suck her left breath. I put my clothes where she slept and sat, I put my painting where she often watched, looking forward to her touch, can say something, can reason clothes, can point Screen. Or I do anything