Children compose poems written by their parents.

I am a small seed, sleeping in the soil, awakened by the tree mother: child, you are going to sprout! I struggled to twist my body and break through the dark mud-throwing eggs at stones; I thought about giving up, but I heard my mother encouraging me with applause in the wind. I am a small green bud, born from the earth, awakened by the tree mother: child, you are going to grow leaves! I tried my best to open my arms and want to embrace the bright sunshine-I overreached; I tried to escape, but I saw my mother protecting me in the rain. I am a small weed, nurtured by the earth, awakened by the mother of the tree: child, you want to blossom! I struggled to preserve my nutrition and wanted to welcome Hua Die, bring disgrace to oneself in spring; I wanted to leave, but I caught a glimpse of my mother taking care of me with branches in the hot sun. I am the most gorgeous flower in spring!