I was a bad mother
How much should I clean the window- pane of your houses…
to affored the shoes for my son which are shined by the satrs.
There is broken glasses in the street of my city.
The pavement s are full of the red foot print which ends to the sky.
I was a bad mother.
I have lost my son in the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem