They are the sons of life who yearn for themselves.
They were born through you, but not you,
Although they are with you, they don't belong to you.
Give them your love, not your thoughts,
Because they have their own ideas.
Provide housing for their bodies, but don't imprison their hearts.
Because their hearts belong to tomorrow, which you never dreamed of.
You can try to be like them,
But don't try to make them look like you,
Because life will not go backwards, nor will it stay yesterday.
You are the bow that shoots the arrow of a child's life,
Archers aim at the target on endless roads,
He tried his best to drive you away so that his arrow could shoot fast and far.
Let you bend in the archer's palm to please him,
Because he loves to fly arrows and bow.