I saw my mother again in a popular store,
She was languidly exploring aisles.
She was the true doppelganger, if one had ever existed.
I wanted to run up and stroke her cheek,
Wanted to hear her voice, look into her eyes..
I did not stare blatantly, but was coy;
Perusing useless things to my left and right,
Casting the occasional glance, in her direction.
My heart was downcast, paying my paltry bill.
Leaving, I knew I would never see her again, anywhere.
I felt both bitter and guilty at my withdrawal
From her magnetic presence.
For she had no more to do with my own mother,
Than a bird has to do, with a hallowed rosebush-
Or a cloud has to do, with heaven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem