For thee who saw the grain in thy pod,
For thee who saw the flower before her blossoming years,
For thee who saw the cooking pot before she turned black,
For thee who saw I, in my cradle.
For thee who heard my first shriek,
For thee who held thee in thy youthful hands,
For thee who danced the dance of the labor room -
During my genesis, into this spinning mountains.
May the gods of poetry crown me with poetic muse
To showcase the beauty thou art.
For thee who taught me everything thou know,
For thee who taught me the path of the navigating waters,
For thee, my ever-loving queen in this wandering planes.
For thee my all -my mother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem