Son of a Woman

o my dear mother, please do not grieve on this tragic death the death that your son has to under go although, as a son, i had a strong affection for you dear mother i hadn’t even once held your hands to comfort you, the hands were roughened and chapped from the toils and worries my affection toward you was never less worth than anything else in the world, i couldn't show my affection because it was not the time for me to express my own feelings nevertheless, since i am a son of woman i became a lonely reed in the marsh when i stood by riverside thinking of you, and when i was longing for you my beloved mother the passing high wind struck and blew me down to earth dear mother, many nights of miserable and lonely hours in the valley i dreamed of you with sigh, many nights of cold and dark hours in the wasteland i was thinking of you with tears in the valley the rock was my pillow, in the wasteland the dews were my quilt, and now, i am submitting myself to death as if i have reconciled with and unconcerned of it though i am afraid of dying nonetheless, dear mother, i know your desperation; when i knelt to earth and fell on the ground because of the weight of the cross that is too heavy to bear, you strove not to fall, but, alas, all in vain, you have fallen on the ground with me holding the weight of agony that is heavier than the cross i was carrying for i never showed my passion that of a son to you it is less painful to die on the cross than to watch your restless anxiety at there in a short distance therefore though i am dying after the fulfillment of my tasks on earth, my heart is not easy to see your suffering, which is the mother to watch her own son’s persecution, the pain that only the mother can know dear mother, please be healthy till the end of the day though your son dies by a violent death; dear mother, please live long and thereby the tears well up in your eyes, on one bright morning, turns to full of joy and flow into the river of everlasting happiness dear mother, on the surface of earth ‘mother’ is the most affectionate, yet precious name of all i know and therefore your lonely son’s last wish is to breathe my last breath in your tender caring bosom nonetheless, look at john the disciple who i love stands by you dear mother, he will take good care of you, he will be your son in my stead o it is a torturous moment; the affliction is, o mother, more than i can bear