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Father - A Bird Of Leaves
poetry [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [Doremidoremi ]

2011-06-11  |   

Literary Translation - Translations of classic and original poetry and other materialsThis text is a follow-up  | 



I will never forget my Dad.
When I was a child,
He used to walk with me, sometimes, through the city, by taking my hand into his,
And telling me about all the hills
From his heart.
I spun by the sun
On his hills
And sang -such an amazed and happy child-
About all they could tell me
About life.
Longing, like a bird of leaves,
was always whispering in Dad's eyes.
When returning home,
His heart was going elsewhere.
Those sunny hills meant
Home,
Not the city ...

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