The ghost of the son sits
beside the sleeping mother.
Kisses her on the cheek
embraces her while she slumbers
'You will be with me soon
but please do not come too fast.
Will you grant me this boon
and live your life while it lasts? '
Then she opens her eyes.
Cheek pressing on a pillow.
Remembers her son died.
She is empty and hollow.
'How I miss you so much,
my Yeshua oh my Yeshua!
I miss your voice and your touch,
my Yeshua, oh my Yeshua! '
Then she sits on her bed,
feels the burden of her pain.
She weeps and bows her head
and keeps saying her son's name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem