For poetry lovers
Soapberry scent
The scent of soapberry is no longer there/ Far from home, I faintly remember the color of the noon sun
Mother sitting under the shade of the tree at noon
The sunlight is shaking and the flowers are falling sparsely.
Hair soft as wind and clouds
Mother's fragrant shampoo, her hands brushed evenly
Wash away the dust of morning and evening
Wash your hair as light as a kite flying across
Brush tangles into rows
Brush the warp and weft yarns evenly
The fragrance around where mother sits
Dry hair, wind blowing up to the sky
Wash hair, boil water by hand
Mother's habits from ancient times
Now mother is old
Over the years, hair thinned on the head
Where is the scent of soapberry now?
Far away from home, the noon sun still lingers.