Let your life compose a melody,
My baby is climbing trees by nine;
The meanings of a tree are finely spoken,
In silence is the music of solemn nature.
My child has special weeds and flowers,
The heart hurts from fear and burden,
Then disburden this baby in my arms
So fully that it is lightened and relieved.
Bend your head as well, when you see babies
Cry and fume with tears, the worshippers stand;
Come and understand this new religion I am in,
The babies and infants are also welcome.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem