On the foot,
a portrait of my face.
It was the time of courage and disgrace.
Remember her?
'Was she the one who was divinely mannered?
Character flawless,
seemingly sewing
together all these lost pieces.'
Shattered and scattered
among the souls
in the cave
of the
lost children;
A mothers' voice,
Cascading down,
the movement of her voice,
very strong,
she gently folded eternity
around me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem