My mother is the country looks ugly woman, just muddle, I know face-up. I took to the streets together with different mother, the mother of labor in the fields call home, I just quickly ran to her side, whispered towards her cry, they flew, alone and ran away. Someone's home so her mother took the children are small hand to the schools. But I do not, I refuse to pick. I know a lot of nights under the study up, I am a person walking along a dark street, behind the shadow that followed me well, that string of unhurried footsteps, is the mother. But I pretend I do not know, I am afraid suddenly walked a street, let someone else have a glimpse of my ugly eyesore mother. Because of the ugly, ashamed of her mother has always been alone and lonely l My mother is back home, I opened the burden, all the colorful clothes Bonnet child, I could not restrain a cry aloud. I told the wife that I said the woman of my aunt is my mother. She traveled all the way to teach transfer arrived here by car, to his son's face, actually comes in quick succession rather than in, leaving her son and future grandchildren full of love, not even the son of a cold water did not drink. Wife crying. His wife said that she actually knew that Aunt is my mother. Wife: "She is not ugly, she had the United States than many women, she is the greatest I've ever seen my mother!" I must go home to his wife over to her mother, she said: "We must not only openly cried her mother, also accompanied her to the Street walk. "Oh, mother! My mother passed the bridge, the long years of prayer, here is the wind and rain, there is the sun, whereas white hair floating ah float. My mother passed the bridge, Qing Yang breeze to find. Side is concerned about, there is laughter, no amount of dreams too few. I love my mother, the pro-bridge, ah, forget the endless stream. The mother of the bridge forever, ah, I have walked with the old.
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