I really want to say to you,
Good morning, my mother.
I miss the big mountains and the green fields.
I miss the clear brook around our village
And the fresh air
As well as you too, my Mother.
Because of you, I am me.
You brought me into the world
And you gave me life.
You raised me
And you watched me grow up.
After many years,
Dark locks of hair have given way to grey.
I know how hard things have been,
And how many tears
Have passed through your eyes.
When will I see you?
I often ask myself.
We are separated by the big ocean and many mountains,
But I often see you in my dreams
As before we worked in the fields
And looked until the sun had sunk to the west.
Even though we have thousands of miles as barriers between us,
we are always seeing each other in our dreams.
Let me say to you,
"Good Morning, My Mother."

-Xiao Yan Koepplin, China