Just beyond the shooting stars,
just beyond the rising waves,
hear the cooes of a lullaby,
by a mother day and night.
Rocking in a rocking chair,
humming softly through the air,
the air is filled with joy and pride,
mother rocks but baby cries.
Day has falllen,
night has bestowed,
now this story has been told.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem