I show her almost everyday,
Not just in the month of May,
That she is my mother,
And I have no other.
Like a fly on the wall,
I don't speak at all,
Especially when she recalls,
The sacrifices, just so I could be this tall.
I would want to equal her to anything,
But there is no unit in measure that could, in everything.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem