Weaning
Sweet, sweet, sweet mother
Are you really abandoning me?
Suckling, sucking, milking
Could four years pass this fast?
How i wish a next level does exist!
Now vulnerable sadly i must be
With the weather to toy at its wish
Parted with thy body, nobody i am
Only a commoner to pend for myself
Perhaps i messed up my cute chance
The champaign of power could blind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem