Mother Poem by Jiang Haizhou

I always hear that mother has got up very early,
She drags herself along with a chronic illness, refrains from coughing,
Softly pushes the door open and steps in:
Sees that (me) the single son is sleeping,
Sees that next to me, on the little bed with rosy mosquito net,
Her grandson is also in a dream.
We are all here so that she sets her mind at rest,
Leaves cautiously with the door left unlocked.
If it happens in the winter, she steps in gropingly.
Holding a candle, she is carefully looking to and then
She goes downstairs to prepare breakfast for the whole family.