I grew so weary;
My concealment meant only not to hurt you
Yet in time, it’s obscurity cluttered my aim;
Lead me to an almost deadly destruction,
To another direction;
Complication.
Even so, my aim was foolish;
I regret that brink of almost gushing it all out
Just to tell you, I wanted to tell you.
You put me on your lap
Like a little child.
I am a little child, especially to you
For you are my mother.
Your motherly arms cuddled me into your chest
And still loved me.
I love you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem