Most of the time I ask myself
For I want to know who loves me more than my family?
Who?
They that I walk with
Or they that I talk with
People I live with
Or those that I worship with
I cannot tell with much certainty
But no one loves me more than my family.
How many
Are prepared to share with me my happiness
With no end credits behind the mind;
How many
Will share with me my sorrow
Without taking it as a debt they owe.
How many?
All women can break my heart
But not my mother
All men can refuse to make me proud
But not my father
Other men might not give me security
But not my brother
Other women might gossip about me
But not my sister
So no one loves me more than my family.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem