We're headed to the southland
to avoid the wintry scenes.
I will not miss the falling snows
or temperatures in the teens.
What I will miss is the comfort I feel
of being where I was born.
Whenever I travel away from here
a part of me does mourn.
Still I await the reunion with my sons
and their families that I love.
My grandchildren's smiles and interests
that to me are far and above
my loneliness that nags at me
to be where I'm at home.
It's strange what familiarity does to the heart.
It tells me not to roam.
Being torn between here and there
is never an easy thing.
It's like being in the middle of a song
that you've forgotten how to sing.
But off we'll go and the south will appear
and we will settle in.
We'll bide our time and enjoy our families
and southern living will begin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem