Wǒ de nǚ'ér (My Daughter)

And although she had many friends,
She did not have a one-of-a-kind.
No one to tell secrets to,
And no one to feel her sorrows.
So when she came to the kitchen
With sorrow streaming down her face,
She only had her Bà sitting next to her
As she wept,
His silver-speckled brows
Furrowed with concern,
Because he didn’t know
How to hold her.