Dear mother with a basket on your head,
Lay it down near a stream
And wash your face with water from the cold current.
Your daughter at home
Picking apples from a tree
Will walk down this road
With a basket on her head
Untie her braids and let her run.
Let her love the grass beneath her feet
And let her love her feet.
Let her love the wind on her skin
And let her love her skin.
Let her love the scarf around her shoulders
And let her love her tender, aching bones.
You walk along this path with sweat on your forehead
Lines on your face
Worry in your eyes
Anxiety in your heart.
If you cannot give your daughter a future
Give her a smile
Give her contentment.
Make sure she laughs as she walks this path
That in her reflection in that stream
She sees a crown on her head
And hope in her eyes.
She will die rich