She couldn't see,
what tomorrow would bring,
There was no sorrow,
in her dream.
As she held her baby close,
a mother would sing,
Someday,
her child,
would grow,
up to become a king.
She held him close to her cheek,
As if she held a rose,
she would sing her child to sleep,
as she held him close.
Someday she would,
cry tears at His feet.
Mother don't you weep,
Your son will rise again.
Hear the angels sing,
Glory to the king.
The hopes of all of our tomorrows,
Is in Mary's joys and sorrows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem