面前放着一张空白的纸,我攥紧手中的画笔,却不知道如何下笔。母亲坐在对面,对我盈盈地笑着。这是一张太熟悉、太亲切的脸,让我魂牵梦萦,让我倍感安全。今天,我要为您画张像,画笔仿佛跃跃欲试,我的手却有些颤抖,因为眼前的这张脸有太多太多我难以下笔的地方。这让我心酸,让我明白何为沧桑。难以下笔的地方有您头顶的稀疏银丝。那一根根银丝灼伤了我的眼,灼痛了我的心。 In front of a piece of blank paper, I clenched my hands brush, but do not know how to write. The mother sat opposite, smiling at me. This is a too familiar, too kind face, let me dream, make me feel safe. Today, I want to draw a picture for you, the brush seems eager, but my hand is a bit trembling, because this face in front of me too much too hard for me to write down. It makes me sad, let me understand what is vicissitudes. Difficult to write where you have sparse silver head. That one root of silver burns my eyes, burning my heart.