MOTHERSCAPE

Mothers need not be as beautiful as flowers.

Flowers blossom so magnificently
That we forget what season it is.
But industry has not progressed
To the point where it can grow hearts in greenhouses.

Washed by the cold waves
Assuming the expression of rocks
Mothers may have the profiles of damp white sand.

Though their gentleness is eroded
Though their love shattered
Though their hopes washed away.

In the solidity of this peninsula
It is fine for you to be a mother.

Connected to the continent of life
Tiny tiny land,
Mothers.
Join your hands together,
I can see a splendid coastline.

MOTHERSCAPE