My daughter turns twentyone today
I look at my ageing hands
wrinkles are beginning to crawl
along once smooth lines.
I read with my doblevista
oftentimes faces are blurred
from a short distance.
I can’t ran the way I used to
oxygen escapes my head.
Every night I gasp for breath
up the four steep flight of stairs.
My daughter turns twentyone today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem