Ode To My Little Face Poem by MARIE CLAIN

You are the card of my first senses, I am going to explore the corners of your glamorous woods

To you the small mount aquiline
Who felt the first perfumes of my source of life, my mother

To you little pond where came to satisfy the first notes of music of my ma Mozariste, my mother

To you little flower with two sweet and satiny petals
who gives the first scents to the milky mountains of my delicate nurse, my mother

To you pearly pearls with a more subtle shell than the clouds
Who gave his first bursts to my queen, my sweet and melodious friend, my mother

A silky rainbow, nestled on the horizon of my front garden
Who tied my pearls to this hairy beach, more incandescent than the first mosses of the graceful woods of the drills

A little rosy glades
Where come the sweet letters of my virgin feelings,
written with the sweet ink of the inexhaustible source of his affection, his protection, that of my mother

To you little face that you are today
what does it matter the magician of the time who passed by
what does it matter visitors to this sacred and endemic territory

I honor you today for the land that you were for the future,
To be yesterday's call,
On this map where every place is a treasure, a maternal heritage
That the one erected by my mother.