我有两个妈,一个是乡下的娘,也就是生我的妈;一个是城里的妈,也就是我的岳母,给我亲爱妻子生命的妈。我乡下的娘,今年68岁了,白发像白云;我城里的妈,72岁了,还满头黑发。我乡下的娘,整日在田里劳作着,在崎岖山路上奔波着,她手搭凉棚,盼望着我从城里回家。娘说,娃呀,挂在房梁上的那块腊肉还给你留着回家吃。 I have two moms, one is the mother of the country, that is, my mother; one is the city’s mother, that is, my mother-in-law, give my dear wife’s mother. My country’s mother, 68 years old this year, white hair like a white cloud; my city’s mother, 72 years old, but also covered with dark hair. My mother in the country, working all day in the fields, running around on rugged mountain roads, took her hand in the pergola and looked forward to my return home from the city. Mother said, baby ah, that piece of bacon hanging on the beam back to you to eat back home.