The Phone Call
Phone rings I finally answer, it’s my daughter she wants to come home.
“Where are you ringing from? I ask she doesn’t know. Tell her I have no
home only phone that works in all weather, “I gave you all my money
and I sold my house so you could become a doctor.” But dear dad I’m
a dancer now in a country I don’t know the name of, only that people
talk funny and cry a lot when drunk.” Since we didn’t know where we
are, agree to meet in Tirana but, she doesn’t know when she’ll be there,
I don’t know when I’ll be going there. Dreams of becoming middle class
through my daughter has vanished. Where is Tirana? Anyone?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hmmm... you wrote very well the flow of events.... and also your expression