A Mother's Love Is A Graceful Retreat, A Translation

母愛是一場得體的退出

A friend recently shared a Chinese poem with a group of fellow moms. Though the original author remains unknown, the work has been widely circulated and quoted across educational and parenting platforms, podcasts, and books.

The poem is a poignant portrait of the graceful restraint in a mother’s love — profound, selfless, quietly contained, and yet ever-present. As a mother, I was touched by it instantly, and felt compelled to work on a translation for my English readers.

The original poem was told from a mother’s perspective, shifting between first and second person for the mother, and second and third person for the child. I’ve chosen to use the first and second person consistently for the mother and child, respectively.

This post also serves as a prelude to my next one, a tribute to my mom, told from the child’s perspective. ❤️

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Image from Pexabay

A Mother’s Love Is A Graceful Retreat

Cutting the umbilical cord, my first act of letting go and your first step away from me.

Weaning was your second leap; walking, your stride toward freedom.

Stepping through the school gate, you walked toward your horizon,

as mine quietly receded behind you.

You spend your life bidding farewell,

I spend mine repeating, again and again, “Be safe!”

From the moment you were born,

you became the quiet pull of my heart.

In this life, nothing truly tethers me as you do—

born from my flesh and bearing my image.

Through each of your steps,

I whisper in silence: "Grow, but know I’m near …”

season after season, year after year.

To be mother and child

is to watch your silhouette fade into the distance,

while your slight frame proclaims:

“Don’t follow—I am growing."

Every release is growth.

Every farewell, a metamorphosis.

With a tender, childlike voice, you declare:

“Mom, I can do it on my own!”

A mother’s love is a graceful retreat.

Love is letting go, and love is watchful care.

May you walk this path of growing up,

unafraid, unburdened, and free.

For those of you who read Chinese, here is the original poem, author unknown.

母愛是一場得體的退出

剪斷臍帶，是你的第一次退出;

斷奶，是你的第二次退出;

學會走路，是你的第三次退出;

邁進學校，是你的第四次退出。

他用一生跟我們告別，

我用一生告訴他路上小心。

從他出生那刻起，

就成了我這輩子最深的牽掛。

這一生，誰都牽絆不了你，

唯有自己身上掉下來的這塊肉，

春夏秋冬，寒暑往來，

讓你心甘情愿地付出。

所謂母子一場，

就是不斷目送你的背影漸行漸遠，

而你卻用小小的身影告訴媽媽:

“不必追，我在成長。”

每一次放手，都是一次成長，

每一次告別，都是一次蛻變。

你用稚嫩的聲音告訴我:

“媽媽，我可以自己來!”

母愛是一場得體的退出，

愛是放手，也是守護。

愿你在這條成長的路上，

勇敢前行，無所畏懼。

Some photos I took when Howie was still a young boy:

Above: Daddy’s “turbo charge”. Below: “Look! No training wheels!”

First day of kindergarten: Grandma picking up Howie at the school bus stop.

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