I can see a soldier's mother
Knitting quietly in the lamplight,
Her precious thoughts are for another
Who has been sent away to fight.
She is remembering a tousled haired boy
Running through the house to play.
She is remembering the heartfelt joy
Of washing and nurturing him each day.
She gloried in his every little achievement
For he was her flesh and blood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem