She was born there among the shine of the sun,
upon a memorable and lively blossoming spring.
Like a madder red rose in the meadow to flourish,
and be nurtured like the sparrows that thus sing.
There outside she roamed upon the earth endlessly,
upon the verdure of the foliage of the sinewy leaves.
There whereupon her footprints were to then tread,
within the gales that blow with succour and ease.
Stirred indeed within the laden path she wended,
by her manifold hopes and her abundant dreams.
She grew from that one simple seed among the soil,
into a wondrous bloom with many petals it seems.
Hence the moisten dewdrops that soon befell ere,
upon her stem enlighten then with the autumn rain.
And the cold winter approached and a wintry gale,
to bring frost on a dale were its gullies became a wane.
How am I to forget her laughter, her smile, her joy,
where in them all I saw was her magnificent beauty?
And yet it was but yesterday amidst the darkle clouds,
when she was truly that wonderful bloom with purity.
Her words, her weal, her vicissitude, her liveliness,
hearken in the depth forever of my lingering mortality.
For now amid the shade of the welkin she roams eternally,
within the light that leads onto the realm of immortality.
How I am to bear her absence, her tenderness, her passion,
when it is her essence that I shall come to dearly miss?
Her youthful spirit and loving heart of a devoted mother,
as I shall bear her name in me and I shall not be remiss.
And there bestrewed are her ashes upon the soil of the earth,
that withers every day within the brisk winds like the dust.
There now at last she is free to roam forever onto the sea,
and to therefore jaunt straightway into the morning mist.
And upon a new blossoming spring in her remembrance,
the next seed within the beautiful oak trees I have sowed.
Hence there to be wrought within the flourishing meadow,
and within the sounds of nature it shall indeed be ploughed.
My beloved child, your birth to me was a gift sent by God,
and fain was I to be ever, as I cherished my everlasting glee.
And a cherub you were born, and now in death before me,
a cherub within the shine of the rainbow I can truly see.
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Comments about this poem (Cherub by Franc Rodriguez )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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