His head is laid upon my chest
His hand is wrapped in mine.
His breathing eased while at his rest,
His heart is marking time.
I barely feel his weight, and yet
As though my sight we're stretched beyond the years,
I feel his life upon me set:
All His hopes, his triumphs, and his fears
And bare I now, from this day on,
That burden I ne'er have born before,
To guide, and keep, and raise a son
To show him worlds of sacred truths and how to open hidden doors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A good attempt in the chapter of parenthood. You may like to read my ars poetica named as (Poetic Sense-1) Thanks