To a daughter
This is to a daughter
For her, her children;
Include descendants
Far, too far, and near.
I met her at the door;
And the name that she wore
Was yours with same letters!
Felt sweat on spine
Stood hair on my arms.
In my mind ran a hug;
But felt that it was wrong.
Suddenly I retained
Conscious and confidence.
So, just called her by name
And added: "My Daughter, "
She smiled in return…
Now, please be honest
Do you, too, feel the same
In varied occasions?
I respect such shivers
Like the myth of phoenix
With fire that kills her!
I vision the waves of a flame
Filling heart of father for daughter;
A sacred beauty that can be ferocious.
Wonder if it exists in daughter;
Have you, too, felt the same?
Isn't love acting as a sharp sword
Or a bomb of devil with madness
Or stone thrown by some bastard
To shatter the soft jar or the urn?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a nice poem on parenthood. Most of us feel like that. Thanks for sharing. 'sn't love acting as a sharp sword Or a bomb of devil with madness Or stone thrown by some To shatter the soft jar or the urn? '... is very nice indeed. Loved it.