The child grows by absorbing the mud.
It was by clinging to my mother's frail shoulders that I grew up wise.
Mother carries her child's childhood through the seasons.
through days of hunger and lack of salt.
clear mornings, tranquil evenings
peaceful nights filled with wind and moonlight.
Looking up at the sky, I wonder about the days yet to come.
Digging our feet into the sand, searching for the future…
My mother cut short her own life.
to make my child's dreams come true
A dream full of stars, a heart-wrenching feeling.
Every exchange leaves behind lingering regrets.
The pain also lingers throughout one's life.
half a century
The child picks itself up from every fall.
back to sitting on the old doorstep
Whispering to fifty-year-olds.
Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/noi-voi-tuoi-nam-muoi-3153990.html
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