There is this...
When she was five
I was her daddy -
Maker of wonders,
Wielder of power,
Protector and keeper.
When she was twelve
I was dad -
Homework helper
Tear dryer
Night guard.
Now that she's grown
I'm father -
He,
Left
Out.
We should detach.
That is our job.
But, oh,
I miss making wonders
And drying tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice longing about the other for another, the mother that is us all, , , , poetry