'My child, - she said, - you're growing
By my warming heart,
Attentive ears and tender hands.
In fact, I know you better than your mother.
It feels though, that you're smothered
You're always raging, always raving —
It makes you difficult for me to bear'
-My moon, I pray you never pity me!
The wolf born pup that grows amongst the dogs,
Will always aim to feast upon the sheep.
It makes difficult to bear. Warming heart is childish in nature. Having friendship is good. This is brilliantly penned poem shared here...10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Ruslan. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks