After three half-hearted, vain abortion efforts came
the mutual punishment of birth and the tight
pretence of my Adoption. Then you failed
to force me in the painful mould
of your own image, uncommunicating, cold.
Still, we have been faithful to each other:
rebel son and secret mother.
I'm getting old, and you're ever more stubborn.
You think that I have failed you,
and can't remember when last you ate.
We were hardly in each other's knowing -
now my half-respect for you has turned to emptiness
almost dispassionate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem