Always on her mind like nice song wings
always off the ground.
Memory before there gone she wants to
give so long.
Energy was passed along the path of
heard so overgrown a shadow
in some line.
Massive was this span of life need truck
to carry on.
Often life is seen as such thruogh glasses
license to thin.
Yes she is my mother dear and memorys
there are hers to leave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We are because they were...