In a world full of sorrow
I see her every morning
Working hard as if in her
Life there is no tomorrow
I see her cleaning house
Washing her clothes and
In the garden taking strolls
In a chair stitching blouse
She is in her eighties now
A body half bent to the front
Still full of energy and zeal
Time for her is going slow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem