My Mother My Hero

Little my mother was not a wealthy family and was born from a blue-blooded, my mom is just an ordinary human being who bled minang and born to a peasant family from the village left the country.

My mother was not a minor has an additional name to his name, my mother did not have AMD, ST, Msc, let alone the DR in front of his name, even my mother's surname only a child who only tasted the sweetness of nan populist folk school.

Little my mother was not a beautiful woman named Tub beautiful colors of the rainbow, my mother was never angry with the sun that burned her skin, she was never rude to his fields of interest to run .....

Little my mother was not a spoiled child who knows, a child who whines requested bought dolls, even a pair of shoes was never terbelikan, like a long dream that never ending,

My mother was not protected by teenagers nan stately homes, he simply is covered by nan reot huts, as if the land were reluctant to sustain it.

My mother youth was not a radiant young woman, danced with joy over the beauty of adolescence, my mother was a young lady stopped up, re-ran serantang deliver rice to the rice fields, and bring home segantang rice as wages.

My mom teenage girls who are not accompanied by dressing-nan exquisite makeup, skin teroleskan only sweat, face powder is a challenging glint of the sun, his body towering thin, clear line nan face wash tub.

Mother wept my heart, my heart terhujam, when you're crying describe in detail the life of your nan sadly small. Mother I'm proud of you. Even if people laugh at you first, even if you exclude the first, now I praise your mother, I flatter your mother, me and your sons and daughters are another proof of your struggle, your perseverance evidence.

Sweat is dzikirmu.
Tintamu not gold or silver.
Science is hands, feet, and ketegaranmu.
You're an angel indeed, O mother.
Your blood is precious blood for me.
Your title is a title in the eyes of God as a man who bravely.
Your beauty is the obstinacy and struggle.

Mother, now stare the walls of our house, our house is not grand, but now the huts are gone, tanahpun is pleased to support our homes, even now hold our shoreline, look at the photographs range you and your children, emblazoned with proud smile your son-daughter with a Toga and hands wrapped around a proof of graduation, not ... this is not ours, it belongs to your mother.

Mother stare back, console yourself, see yourself smiling in a frame on a camel was accompanied by my father to me in this world champions. Remember the back of each sheet of your trip to the holy land and beautiful again.

Let the people stare beings struggle.

Mother Smile, you is my hero.