The mother reached for her daughter and whispered a sweet melody, please do not allow those people to see the real me...
The person they cannot see it will make seem me weak, I cannot care for you, I must be bleak.
you're fate is not for me to decide, but the real me I still must hide...
Cry little child an cry as much as you can, I shall play the man.
Although we have lost and you have been scared,
the damage has still not been repared...
Please my flower do not hate me, but i must be strong
Remeber you are not wrong...
My beautiful flower....blossom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem