Foreign maternal love poems

Author of "Golden Flower": Tagore If I were a golden flower, just for fun, I would grow on the high branch of that tree, swaying in the wind with a smile and dancing on the new leaves. Mom, would you know me? If you cry and say, "Where are you, son?" "I was there secretly laughing, but I didn't say a word. I will quietly open my petals and watch you work. When you take a bath, your wet hair falls over your shoulders, passes through the golden flower shaded by green trees, and walks to the prayer yard. You will smell the fragrance of this flower, but you don't know it comes from me. Tagore's = = Golden Flower Poem-"Mother" Bing Xin I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper. I always keep it, fold it into a boat and throw it into the sea. Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck to the bow. I am still not discouraged, and I always hope that a person can only flow where I want him to go. Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that he dreams for no reason. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wanshui Qian Shan, please ask him to take her love and sadness home! My mother is like a bright light at night. When I lose my way, she will guide me, illuminate me and walk towards the light. My mother is like the bright moon on an autumn night. When I am lonely and helpless, she will accompany me, support me and give me full confidence. Mom, she is busy all day for me, tireless, no regrets, so on this annual Mother's Day, I want to say, thank you! I love you! Maternal love (2) Mountain is not as high as maternal love; Sea, not as deep as maternal love; God, love without a mother is vast; Naturally, there is no mother's love and tolerance; Sunshine is not as warm as maternal love; Clouds are not as white as maternal love; Flowers are not as brilliant as maternal love. Mom, we are cold. Who will add clothes for us? Who will cook for us when we are hungry? Who encouraged us when we failed? Happy for us when we succeed? She is not a robot; This is not a computer. She is my mother. Mother is not Santa Maria, Jesus or God, but she is as gentle and kind as Santa Maya, as loving as Jesus and as wise as God. Ah! Mom, that's great! Love may take away your grace and make your hair pale, but it will never take away your kind smile. Mom, please let me express my sincere thanks on this special day! Happy mother's day. I love my mother. I can't finish what I want to say, and I can't finish what I want to write. Everything is in silence. Angel mother in spring, like an angel in spring, brings warm spring breeze and light rain into children's hearts and understands their needs. This loving angel gave everything to take care of the children's lives and protect their safety. No matter how bad we are, the angel mother still has the ocean-like measure to contain us. Motherly love is like a candy. Motherly love is like a candy, wrapped in nagging and hidden in scolding. Let me look around until I understand. Poet who praises my mother: Anonymous (1) Every tear was cut and stitched so that I could soak an immortal red candle from my eyes. In the storm, I will bloom my life in the flame and pray silently for my flesh and blood life. Can you hear my crying from ancient times to the present? A crumpled nest is a simple bag. So much rain and dew soaked with milk filled my morning earth. I'm on my way, walking beside you like a bunch of sacrificial flowers. (2) Mother who lives on water, mother who uses milk as water, the river grows on your hand, cleaning the ancient ship of my mind, my blind eyes spewing flames, paddling the sun, rolling steel, refining a pair of pearls in my dreams, shining like stars, always paying attention to me and casting a blue bridge. Since then, my spine has been bent into a soul-rainbow-like slender unpremeditated words have been born into the air by every wind; Speaking casually and dying at birth gives people hope and fear in an instant: breathing all contradictions in the same breath according to the capriciousness of the mind. But Billetdoux is an eternal witness and an eternal substantive record; Just evidence, truth admits that lovers can rely on it safely; They are serious thoughts, digested and solved; Finally, when words turn into clouds