Everything that happens to us,
We somehow weirdly divide it in half:
If joy is celebrated with friends,
And with misfortune we come to mothers.
Busy with work and business,
Day after day in the flow of fuss
We do not often think about mother,
Too rarely give her flowers.
And we carry our illnesses to my mother,
And the insults to her go, divide,
And wrinkles to her draw,
Forgetting forgiveness ask ...
And my mother still loves us,
Whatever happens - does not betray,
I'll forgive everything, I'll forget all my grievances,
The hand, the heart, the soul - all give it away!
Go to my blog and you will see a bunch of beautiful photos!!!