“天上的星星流泪,地上的繁花枯萎,虫儿飞,虫儿飞,你在思念谁……”这首歌是我小时候,曾祖母教我的。每当听见这首歌,我总能想起曾祖母那慈祥的面孔。那个夏天晚上,我依偎在曾祖母身旁,她给我扇风,讲故事,唱儿歌。“太奶奶,您给我唱支歌吧,我想学。”“好啊,太奶奶给你唱‘虫儿飞’好不好?”“好!”“虫儿飞,花儿萎,一双又一对才美,不怕天黑,只怕心碎,不管累不累,也不管东南 ”Tears of the stars in the sky, withered flowers on the ground, flying insects, flying insects, who you miss ... ...“ This song was a kid, a great-grandmother taught me. Whenever I heard the song, I always think of that kind-hearted great-grandmother face. That summer night, I nestled beside her great-grandmother, she fan me, tell stories, sing songs. ”“ Grandma, you give me a song to sing, I want to learn. ”“ Well, my grandmother sang to you ’bug fly’ okay? ”“ Good! ” , Flowers wilt, one pair after another beautiful, not afraid of darkness, I’m only afraid of heartbreak, whether tired or tired, no matter the southeast