My mother sits there all alone but never lonely.
You were there when I skin my heart and skin my knees
You were there throughout the laughter and throughout the tears.
There is three hundred and sixty-five day in every year,
This day was made just for you.
The one day you have time to sit and rest awhile.
The one day that always awaken and tell the sun to smile.
The only day that makes everything worth while.
Down through the years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem