看着父亲疲惫的身影, 眼泪,不禁簌簌落下。 这背影犹如一串跳动的音符, 把我的失败组成一段“宽容”的旋律。 又一次,一‘ 坐在父亲的身后, 看见他不该有的苍白、忧虑和疲乏。 我的泪, 浸透岁月中印下的无知与幼稚。 但又一次地, 父亲抬头看看蔚蓝的天, 无奈地说:“一切,都让它 Looking at his father’s tired figure, tears can’t help falling. This back is like a string of beaten notes, composing my failure into a “tolerant” melody. Once again, I sat behind my father and saw that he should not be pale, worried, and tired. My tears soaked into the years of ignorance and naivety between China and India. But once again, the father looked up at the blue sky and said helplessly, “Everything makes it