A son’s love last’s forever,
It never goes away,
Though he be near,
Or on a distant shore far away.
He knows his enemies,
He knows his friends,
And yet he knows another,
His own sweet mother.
He knows where to turn,
When he is down and blue,
To that precious mother,
Sweeter than the morning dew.
She who bore him,
Commands his love,
Whenever she is in need,
He’ll fly like a dove.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is great! I am mother of a six year old son too, I wish he'll feel the same way too.