A Mother to children

A little skinny and sick

The uneven mattress;

The eyes can be opened, blinked,

Or weep in sorrow.

The mother was in the main area

That tears more and more anxiety;

In the chest cavity,

It includes deep breathing.

When sick, sometimes covered,

Sometimes kissing them in the mirror;

“You will be well, child; you will be well, ”

The mother whispered to the youngest in comfort.

Dark eyes and a dry smile,

In the face of the mother becomes a change;

The hardships are just so…

Love is life - mother is the cause.

Nothing, and like a miracle,

The youngest son spoke;

“Mom, am I not serious anymore? ...

"How can you, child,

Just a few days and you will grow stronger… ”

The language of the mother's tears is falling

Because of the great mercy and compassion.

“Our breath, oh my dear son,

It is a single bribe;

When your life is over and gone,

I will add my own life. ”