IT doesn't seem a year ago that I was tumbling out of bed,
The icy steps that lead below at 1 a.m., barefoot, to tread,
And puttering round the kitchen stove, while chills ran up and down my form
As I stood there and waited for her bottled dinner to get warm;
Then sampled it to see that it was not too hot or not too cool,
That doesn't seem a year ago, and now she's trudging off to school.
It doesn't seem a month ago that I was teaching her to walk,
And holding out my arms to her. And that was 'fore she learned to talk.
I stood her up against the wall, eager, yet watchful lest she fall,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem