She limps gingerly
Among the scarred concrete walkway
Clothespins in her rugged
Hungarian hands
She loves Jesus
Apple pie too
Baker, housekeeper, provider
She does it all
Winter, spring, summer and fall
Raised twelve jocks
Who loved sports
One bad apple
Did not spoil the whole bunch
Thanks to my mother
Teresa
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I would like to translate this poem
That was a lovely and terse verse on the saint Mother Teresa. May God bless your work through the same saint! regards, Dr John Celes