It is so long ago
I'm not much for kissing and hugging
I got that from my mother
a child of the slum
She slept with open eyes and knew
everything
My mother, when not working
in a fish factory
spent her evenings reading books
A sharp mind doesn't do much for relationships
she was disliked by many
who took revenge by not going
to her funeral.
When she smiled, she looked like an angel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem