In the long river of time, mother has gradually become a kind of years we call “happiness.” Her love has always been with us, transcending time and space to reach the place closest to our hearts.

　　A mother’s love for her children is more selfless than selflessness itself, and more enduring than eternity. They are angelic beings in this world.

　　In the days ahead, Huake hopes that all mothers will be treated gently by time—moving at their own pace, peacefully and safely! Today is Mother’s Day, and we simply wish to express our deepest love through the most traditional poetry.

　　The Wanderer's Song

　　Tang Dynasty · Meng Jiao

　　A loving mother’s thread in her hand, a traveler’s garment on his back.
　　I sew carefully before departure, fearing my return may be delayed.
　　Who says a blade of grass can ever repay the warmth of the spring sun?

　　Some say that all love in this world ultimately aims at reunion, yet there is only one kind of love that has separation as its ultimate goal—namely, the love parents have for their children.

　　For us, no matter how many times we express our gratitude, it’ll never be enough; for our mother, even if we don’t say a word of thanks, she’ll still feel deeply happy inside.

　　All my mother has ever wanted is so little—she just hopes her children will be a bit healthier, have smoother lives, and that during their lifetime, they’ll be able to see each other more often, even just one more time.

　　"Ink Xuan Diagram"
　　　Yuan Dynasty · Wang Mian

　　The bright, glowing daylilies bloom beneath the northern hall.
　　The south wind stirs its heart—trembling, for whom does it yearn?
　　A loving mother leans against the gate, her heart filled with longing; a wandering child endures the hardships of the road.
　　Delicacies become less frequent day by day, and news from home grows increasingly infrequent.
　　I raise my head to gaze at the forest of clouds, yet feel ashamed to hear the wise birds’ song.

　　Long before the carnation became a symbol of maternal love, China also had its own “flower of mothers”—the daylily, also known as the “forget-me-not.”

　　Daylilies are planted beneath the North Hall. In Chinese culture, the North Hall symbolizes the mother. In ancient times, when a traveler was about to set off on a long journey, they would first plant daylilies in the North Hall, hoping that this gesture would ease the mother’s longing for her child and help her forget her worries.

　　During the season when daylilies are in full bloom, I hope all mothers can put aside all their worries and enjoy happiness, joy, and good health.

　　"Night Cries of the Kindly Crow"
　　Tang Dynasty, Bai Juyi

　　The turtledove lost its mother and cries out mournfully, its voice hoarse and sorrowful.
　　It doesn’t fly away day or night, guarding its old forest year after year.
　　Every night, at the dead of night, it cries—its mournful wail drenches the clothes of those who hear it.
　　In the sound, it seems as if one is being told—yet the heart’s gratitude remains unfulfilled.
　　Do not all birds have mothers? Yet you alone feel such deep sorrow and lamentation.
　　It should be the mother’s kindness that weighs so heavily, making your sorrow unbearable.
　　Once upon a time, there was a man named Wu Qi who did not attend his mother’s funeral when she passed away.
　　Alas, these fellows have hearts no better than those of birds.
　　The compassionate crow returns to the compassionate crow—a Zeng Shen among birds.

Ji Xianlin said:
　　No matter what fame, status, happiness, or honor the world may offer, none can compare to being by your mother’s side—even if she can’t read a single word.

　　The relationship between a mother and her child begins to part from the moment the child is born. For the rest of their lives, they’ll only grow farther and farther apart—until, finally, she disappears around the bend of life.

　　While there’s still time, while everything is still manageable, spend more time with your mother—even just chatting with her. That’s all she truly desires.

"Goodbye, Mother"
Qing Dynasty · Huang Jingren

I lift the curtain to bid farewell to my mother at the riverbank, yet my white hair fills me with sorrow as I gaze at her tear-filled eyes, now dry and weary.
On a bleak night of wind and snow at the humble wooden gate, at such a moment, having a son is worse than having none.

Mr. Lao She said:

　　Even if a person lives to be seventy or eighty, as long as their mother is still around, they can still retain some childlike innocence. Losing one’s loving mother is like having a flower placed in a vase—though the flower still has color and fragrance, it has lost its roots.

　　Those who have mothers have peace of mind.

　　But someday, we’ll part ways with our mother at a crossroads and let go of the hand that has held ours throughout our entire lives. So while you have it right now, be sure to cherish it deeply.
 

“Returning Home at Year’s End”
Qing Dynasty, Jiang Shiquan

A child’s love is boundless; returning home brings joy at the right moment.
The needlework for winter clothes is meticulous, and the ink on my family’s letter is still fresh.
Meeting her, I feel pity for her thin and frail figure; calling out to my child, I ask about her hardships and toils.
I feel ashamed as a filial child, and dare not sigh at the dust and turmoil of the world.

There is an eternal tacit understanding between mothers and their children.

She understands all your hard work and feels deeply for the challenges you’ve faced in forging your own path. Even if you don’t say a word, she still knows exactly what you’re going through.

　　She is the warm sunshine that shines in our hearts, and also the most beautiful flower that speaks to our souls.

　　"Thinking of Mother"
　　Yuan – Yu Gong

　　Frost has claimed the reeds, and tears have soaked my clothes; with gray hair, I no longer lean against the wooden gate.
　　Last May, during the Huangmei rainy season, Zeng once took his kasaya to sell it for rice and returned home.

　　Long Yingtai said that a mother’s love for her children is unwavering and consistent, enduring through life and death.

　　And the love children have for their mothers is also pure and deeply heartfelt. No one wants their mother to grow old, and no one wants to say goodbye to their mother.

　　Time, if only you could slow down— I’d like to spend more quality time with her. When it comes to our mothers, we carry so many worries and so much love in our hearts.

　　"Mother Bids Her Child Farewell"
　　Tang Dynasty, Bai Juyi

　　Mother parts from child, child parts from mother—on a sunny day, the light fades and cries of sorrow fill the air.
　　The Grand General of the Kansai Cavalry, last year he achieved distinguished merit by defeating the enemy with a new strategy.
　　Two million taels of gold were graciously bestowed, and Luoyang welcomed a beauty as radiant as a flower.

　　The newcomer arrives, while the old one is cast aside—like a lotus flower in the palm, a thorn in the eye.
　　It’s not enough to simply welcome the new and discard the old—what’s truly sorrowful is that your family is left with two young sons.
　　At first, I held on while walking; at first, I sat down and cried, tugging at people’s clothes with my cries.

　　Children are always a mother’s soft spot.

　　Throughout her life, she shed nearly all her tears for her children.

　　When she sees our growth, she sheds tears of joy; when she learns of our hardships, she sheds tears of worry; at the moment of parting, she cries with reluctant sadness; and when she misses us, she silently sheds tears...

　　She wasn’t Lin Daiyu, yet with her tears she gave us a lifetime of deep affection.

　　The Book of Songs – “Bei Feng – Kai Feng”

　　The gentle breeze comes from the south, blowing upon the thorny heart.
　　The thorny heart withers, yet my mother toils tirelessly.
　　The gentle breeze comes from the south, blowing upon the thorny firewood.
　　My mother is holy and virtuous; I have no one to blame.

　　Is there a cold spring? It lies beneath Jun.
　　He had seven sons, and their mother toiled tirelessly.
　　The yellow bird sings sweetly, its melody delightful.
　　He had seven sons, yet none could comfort his mother’s heart.

　　Wang Guozhen said, “Our joy is the smile on our mother’s face; our sorrow is the deep sadness in our mother’s eyes.”

　　We can go far, far away, yet we’ll never be able to step out of the square in our mother’s heart.

　　Mother—she is so ordinary yet so extraordinary. With her love, she brings us a lifetime of heartfelt inspiration.

　　《Fifteen》
　　Song Dynasty · Wang Anshi

　　On the mother Han Canal, I leave home under the white shade of the Han.
　　Under the bright moon, I hear the cuckoo’s call—north and south, my heart is always filled with concern.

　　In the world, no one will ever care about you the way your mother does.

　　A mother’s love is ultimately where children truly belong.

　　We can never do enough to express our gratitude to our mothers.

　　Mother is the one who “sews diligently before departure, fearing her return will be delayed”;
　　Mother—her love for her child knows no bounds, and her joy at returning home is boundless.
　　Mother—“When we meet, she pities my thinness; calling out to her son, she asks about my hardships.”
　　Mother—“I feel ashamed as a child, unable to complain about the dust and wind.”

　　Her love is steadfast.
　　From babbling infancy to geese flying in formation;
　　Her love is pure.
　　No expectation of reward, quietly caring;
　　Her love is great.
　　Weathered by time, enduring hardship without complaint;
　　Her love is eternal.
　　The sea dries up and rocks crumble; the earth grows old and the heavens fade.

　　Motherly love is like a spring breeze.
　　Blowing away the cold, snowy chaos, it brings boundless springtime light;
　　Motherly love is like a landscape painting,
　　Wash away the glamour and leave behind freshness and naturalness;

　　Motherly love is like a heartfelt song,
　　Gentle and melodious, softly humming and softly singing;
　　Motherly love is like a pastoral poem,
　　Ethereal and pure, harmonious and subtly refined;

　　Motherly love is a lifetime of joyful laughter and gentle companionship.
　　Motherly love is the lingering longing that drifts across the vast horizon.
　　Motherly love is the heartfelt anticipation for children’s growth.

　　Mother,
　　My love for you is a hymn that will never cease to be sung.
　　But I still sincerely want to sing your praises,
　　You’ve worked hard—happy holidays!
　　I’ll always love you!