While the flickering of the sun burns my eye as I stare into the water,
a kind of sickening thought to undeny my care towards my daughter.
As the goat escaped my realm and swam away in fear
I choked by the helm when ma'am came to me in tears:
'The quickening's begun, sir. I die, Heavenly Father.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem