Music rings through
Before the sun wakes up
You're awake too early
On this Friday morning.
Light plays hide and seek
Your eyes procrastinate
You don't want to wake
But the music is adamant.
It's a new sound,
It's unheard of,
Attention-seeking,
Desperate
Your legs have a mind,
Of their own.
You start moving,
Tumbling, Tripping,
But you never stop
Until you reach
And without the sun
Or another light source
Your face lights up
At what's before you.
It's crying,
But it's beautiful.
It's your daughter,
And she's beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem