I'm a writer, you're a mother.

I always say that my work goes straight to the soul,

And you never show off, you once created a life.

I'm a writer, you're a mother.

I write about grievances and hatreds, all-encompassing,

And you only have love, this kind of feeling.

What is the son doing,

The writer's mother may not understand.

Sitting in front of the computer every day and meditating,

The mother only cares, the sad look on the son's face.

Even if there is a wonderful pen,

can't portray the vividness of a mother,

Even if you have a lot of money,

I can't repay her kindness.

Mother's Day once a year, on this day she is the protagonist,

And the children's festival is carried out every day.

That's a person who thinks about you all the time,

How much sacrifice did that person make for you?

I've written millions of words for my readers,

But I have never written a short poem for you,

You can't read my novels,

And this poem, I will read it to you myself.