She sat by your bed, while the fever raged,
Just dozing in her chair.
Appearing weary, tired, and aged,
Yet she was always there.
Seeing to your every need she stayed,
In that chair by your bed.
And you knew by God she had been made,
As she laid a cool towel, on your head.
Through thick or thin, through day and night,
She always did right by you.
Seeing you were warm, and dressed just right,
There wasn't a thing she wouldn't do.
Whether you sport a red rose on your lapel,
Or a white rose lingers there.
Remember that woman of whom I tell,
On mother's day, please show you care.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a beautiful poem Juan, the word's are so lovely and true. Such a lovely tribute to Mother's.10.