Does the mother not wonder?
Not as a unending curiosity.
But as a loving parent.
Out of wed-lock matters how?
Feelings of both guilt and pity.
Poor child who is suppose understands these things more then a woman of breeding.
Inflammatory is such a thought, as if that is all they are good for.
But lord knows of opinions that riped with such a common curtsy.
Love is love and a woman should not be above it.
Yet he walks the lonely in the streets of iron and stone with grassy ways on both sides.
He is completely unaware of what she did or at least that what his face says.
He is not wanting, he seems amused and content with a strange smile.
As if he understands his fate better then you or I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem