After the mom left the baby with me for a while,
She looked around and cried and cried,
Rocking in arms and feeding the bottle did not help,
Till I held her close to my heart and sang her the lullabies.
The ageless lullabies I sang,
To comfort the baby and rock her to sleep,
Has charmed endless generations of children,
Crossing the linguistic and cultural barriers.
The song invites the uncle moon,
To come by the village on the river's bank,
He must come with the rice porridge in the golden cup,
To feed the baby and make her happy again.
The magic of the song overwhelms my mind,
When the crying baby smiles and puts her hand on my face,
I touch the extended little hands with pleasure,
Knowing that the intimate friendship has begun forever.
We played with the toys she had,
The sights and sounds captivated our imagination,
Now I remember why someone once said,
That we only got married to become grandparents someday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem