at that time
perhaps, i can with
objectivity say
that a mother can also
be a thorn
among her rosy children...
for not all mothers
can be mothers
and in the same manner
not all children are
really children
maybe during all those
joys and celebrations but
in grief, in need,
not all of us can
really be us....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem