poetry share anyone?

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Thu 7 Mar 2013 - 20:23

after Taerkitty sparked the idea in the chatbox by...uhm...let's keep it secret...
i've decided to write a poetry for everyone n_n.

now, i present my own written poetry : 3-

-Meteor: wishing for hope-

Without even tears flowing,
I've been waiting since that day;
I remember you at night,
In the forte sound of the rain.

A shooting star traveling through the sky,
Lightening the darkness even now;
Making certain of your coldness,
That I came into contact with.

What did I hear, what did I see,
Will it repeat again today too;
So empty that I search for its meaning,
I vividly remember a starry night.

The falling star traveling through the sky,
You saw it here as well;
Now drops of it in your heart,
Are shining with hope.

I remember you at night,
In the forte sound of the rain;
A singing voice soars into the distance,
enlightening my soul with hope.

A falling star traveling through the sky,
Illuminates the darkness even now;
Making certain of your coldness,
That I came into contact with.

you can share your poetry here too Razz

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Thu 7 Mar 2013 - 21:03

another self written poetry-

-Sunset dream with you-
by:me

With the setting sun behind me,
I'd walk a little distance behind you;
You are tall, so to match with your pace,
My steps would always get a little bigger.

Once we've climbed to the top of this slope,
That would be when we have to part;
You would look down and stare me,
Saying "Only a little more",

I fell in love with that simple happiness,
Even now those days remain a gentle memory;
If I'd just turn back your hand would be right there for me,
Even now I still feel that way.

Before I realized it you were the only thing in my vision,
As long as you were with me I was able to smile;
Your heartbeats I felt from your fingers touching mine
All of that was so dear to me,

At our parting point, we'd let go of the other's fingers,
Turn our backs toward each other and walk our own ways;
When I suddenly looked back and realized something,
You were no longer there in my sight.

The stories you told me, the visions you painted,
The scenery we saw today--I won't ever forget;
But the more I thought of them in my mind,
The more anxious I felt, somehow inside myself.

I fell in love with that simple happiness,
I felt as if those days would continue;
Everything was a first memory for me,
I didn't even care about what would happen the day after.

With the setting sun behind me,
I close my eyes and imagine deeply;
I see myself searching for someone,
Someone i love the most.

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Fri 8 Mar 2013 - 23:52

My third poet for today XD

-Red Leaves of remembrance-

Swaying in the wind and falling down gently,
there is a red leaf over your shoulder.
If simply cuddling together will allow us to understand each other,
then my sorrows will just vanish into the sky.

As the moon shone in the sky,
In the air there was the sound of the flute from the distance;
When I tried to appreciate this mundane happiness,
I realized how wonderful it actually was.

Someday we'll reminisce our joyful first encounter;
back then we weren't even aware of the faint love between us;
Since your message carved in my mind,
You sparked me with sorrowful look.

The seasons, although indistinct,
slowly sneak up to me at the luring of the shadows;
I have stumbled and become lost,
Just keep going until my end nears.

Wandering in my present time,
waiting for my wish to reach its destination,
I only end up reciting a dead prayer,
As my memory fade away with him.

There is a memory I cannot forget,
and that's the scene of the red leaves over your shoulder;
As they bury the world with their powerful but fleeting color,
I will forever offer up my love.

Swayed by the wind gently scatter now,
and dye this dark night in your crimson color;
I merely want to be with you forever together,
until my sorrows vanish into the sky.

Poetry written by : Kuroneko/Yuki

this
poet is about a lover's promise to be together until the very end...but
the promise was broken when he(the persona's Boyfriend) died in a
war.....

by **Nachtsider** Sat 9 Mar 2013 - 0:39

As nice as your poetry is, Kuro, I'm still too used to the idea that poems are supposed to rhyme...

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Sat 9 Mar 2013 - 2:16

poem sometimes don't rhymed.

if you're talking about Poem, yes it's rhymed in nature....
but my poet is actually Haiku styled Poem with mixing of modern literature in it.

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Sun 10 Mar 2013 - 22:14

-Speranza-
Haiku/poem Written by:Gattonero Yuki-chan(ME)

I wander from City to City,
Floating away on the wind;
Where do the people go,
I want to become a human too.

Sometimes, people become cold,
sometimes, become unfeeling;
Even so, the sacrifice for someone else,
They barely can do it for them self.

Where does the life that was lost like that go,
Has that person's journey already come to an end?
I watch as the society crumble upon them self,
Thinking only about hope and miracle.

I wander from road to road,
Sometimes pelted by the rain.
I came searching for the footprints,
Of the person who bring shining hope.

If you say that even that little heart has faded,
The place where that person existed;
If you say that this faint feeling is not conveyed,
This place where I thought existed.

I'll chase my dream to the end,
Even if I'm broken to pieces;
I'll head for that other side,
The hope that never falter.

My life now begins,
Hope for humanity are rising;
Bringing light of truth to the society,
As i finally found my journey's end.

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Mon 11 Mar 2013 - 18:50

-Claes-
written by; Me

The cloud marching with the wind,
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme;
Watering it just like i always did,
reminiscence from the past i try to remember.

Pond of remembrance slip by your side,
with the fish flying out from the water in our sight;
have you ever remembered the time we spare?
of how you and i come together.

Time by time you trained me,
Although my cockiness of holding the killing tool;
you tried to train me as best as you could;
even heavy downpour bothering my target.

Your room was full of knowledge,
i will never see the word boredom in your life;
you taught me that a soldier needs to be well knowledgeable,
with passion and strength in your eyes.

When that day comes,when that day arrived;
As i paint the scenery of calm and peace;
A news, an news shattered my mind, shattered my hope.
where have you go,leaving me with emptiness.

Cold, harsh, emptiness in my mind,
now my memory playing with my mind;
dream deceiving me every time in my sleep,
remembering the past in my present.

Scarborough fair played in the air,
reminisces over what i can remember of my handler;
Scarborough fair i play with my piano,
never bored in my ever lasting routine.

next up, triela XD

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Tue 12 Mar 2013 - 0:01

-Triela-
by: who else? XD

Darkness shrouding my mind,
As if it was engulfing my soul;
Reaching for the star in front of me,
i realized I'm standing in the world of reality.

dancing with the music in my heart,
following each crescendo with suave step;
with death i shall dance with,
until the very end i shall find.

Sette dell'orso as my life companion,
shooting is my way of expressing my feeling;
with my knife i will use against,
the marionette will i defeat.

forgetting my past in a tormenting way,
of me almost nearing my death;
such a beautiful world i live in,
will i ever see this world again?

It's time for me to say goodbye,
loosing my arms and leg in hope;
encountering the unforgivable path beyond me,
the perfume scent suddenly engulfed me.

I think that my destiny is here,
reaching my mother in the calamity;
my hope will somehow rise again,
until the very moment my fratello with me.

At last i found my end,
death bestowed me with my fratello;
I realized my hope doesn't fade,
'hope' exist in my reincarnation.

by tremec6speed Tue 12 Mar 2013 - 23:32

I like your poetry, Kuroneko.
Great lines like: "Scarborough fair played in the air,"
Ah, me like! Yes Indeed

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Wed 13 Mar 2013 - 0:17

tremec6speed wrote:I like your poetry, Kuroneko.
Great lines like: "Scarborough fair played in the air,"
Ah, me like!

thanks so much n_n

(since i got my experience from poem-debate competition and some song i wrote)

thanks for appreciating it

by Three Dog Wed 13 Mar 2013 - 1:15

Not something by me, but one of my favourites by Robert Frost:

wrote:
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in the wood, and I–
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

by MP5 Sat 16 Mar 2013 - 22:37

"Prius"
Free Verse by MP5

Every time I see one, a part of me dies inside.
It's everywhere. There is no escaping its presence.
It is the automotive representation of all that is wrong with America.
It is a hateful means of conveyance, the chariot of the commie libtard wackadoodle who hasn't showered in days.
It is an indicator of someone aspiring to be a false paragon of virtue.

It is the Toyota Prius.

It often manifests itself as a slow-moving, silent, amorphous blob.
Its bland style and horrendously unsexy, inoffensive colors make it more an appliance than anything else--I know I will never call it a car.
Our roads are infested with the damned things, occupied by two kinds of people.

One common buyer only concerns his or herself with the money they'll save on fuel when they buy one. They buy it for the money credit they get from the federal government which will then be spent logically on something reliable and safe, or something they need. These people are predictable, the kind that spend their time and money reasonably, in a frugal manner, and the most exciting thing they've done in the bedroom is the missionary position. And for these people, that's acceptable, that's pragmatic, that's within their means.

The other buyer of the Prius is not someone I want to hang out with. These are the commie libtard wackadoodles I referred to earlier. They proudly adorn their road appliances with in-vogue, politically-correct aphorisms like "Meat Is Murder" and "Give Peace a Chance." These are the people who only ever buy anything organic things like hummus and soy milk (not because they're lactose-intolerant, either). They sneer at other cars on the road, glaring at diesel trucks and sports cars like they are genocide machines. They're so proud of their stupid plastic blobs because they think they don't pollute--conveniently ignoring to how the materials needed to make their eco-machines were harvested. They think they're sticking it to 'The Man' by driving one, failing to realize they're giving money to the kind of big corporation they're all about rebelling against. These are the kinds of people who will blow up on you because you had the gall to park next to them and not immediately turn off your engine, you polluting, chauvinist, baby-killing, carnivorous monster.

I have no love for the Prius because of the hidden things it stands for. It claims to stand for environmental awareness and fuel efficiency.
I see beyond that, however. What a Prius truly stands for is so-called political correctness, the kind that suspends kindergarten children for having a Pop-Tart vaguely shaped like a handgun. It stands for an unprecedented level of arrogance and unwarranted self-importance rivaled only by people in BMWs and Soccer Moms in crossovers. It stands for the extinction of real drivers by separating them from the real experience of driving their car with a barrier of electronic buggery and automatic transmissions. Worst of all, it stands for a company that in its past, was capable of creating vehicles with soul and great beauty and graceful athleticism, but now only chooses to play it safe so that they can make as much money from inoffensive almost-cars as much as possible.

It is said that the Prius exists so that people can boast about the anonymous good work they're doing for the environment. The very idea makes me want to get an old muscle car with manual transmission so that I can downshift next to every Prius I see just so that they can hear me hurt the environment. I will then grin because there's nothing they can do about it, the self-important sons-of-bitches.

If you are enamored with the Prius and you find this offensive, go ahead and be mad. The fact of the matter is that you prefer a slow, heavy piece of crap with barely enough power to get out of its own way, you're ignorant of how much damage to the environment is required to make your precious appliance, and you have no aftermarket support to make it faster. The car I prefer may be a relic of the past to you, but I know that with enough dedication and money, I can keep it running for years after your batteries no longer hold a charge, AND I can make it a much faster and more fun way of getting around and still make it agree with the environment to a reasonable extent.

Vroom-Vroom, Bitch.
----------------------------------

Afterword: All right, so that totally spiraled into a rant about the Toyota Prius, but this is pretty much how I feel about it. Frankly, I'm not exaggerrating about how self-important Prius owners can be. Just take a look:

by MP5 Sat 30 Mar 2013 - 18:55

'Adulthood/Wasted Youth'
Free Verse by MP5

It's a beautiful spring day and everyone is outside.
Smiling, laughing, enjoying the weather, throwing the top down on roadsters and convertibles, bringing out the vintage rides in their garage to play; the rumble of Harley-Davidsons permeating the air.

I can't really know what that's like;
I'm stuck indoors in a job I work not by choice, but out of necessity,
Masking reluctance with artificial cheer.
Pretending to care about strangers for a paycheck.
I do not believe myself a people person, at least, not when money is at stake.

As I unplug drains and do the hotel's laundry,
I wonder if this is what I will spend my life doing.
Long hours working for family friends who are nice people
But not necessarily the most keen businessmen.
Jumping at work out of survival instinct rather than desire.

With the job quiet until I have to get up and cycle the laundry,
my thoughts turn to days gone by.
Simpler times when I actually had a thing called 'weekends off',
When I had time to socialize with friends, and at least not be bored all by myself.

Years went by. I changed homes, changed schools, changed countries.
Changed if I spent time together with both my parents or just one of them.
The only constants in life were friends, weekends, the sweet release of spring break, in-service days, holiday breaks, and that great time called summer vacation.

As I got older, however, those constants faded away the moment I got that high school diploma. Friends moved away, went to college. Some went into the military. Others, like me, went to work wherever they could find it.

I found work with an old-school grease monkey outfit on the outskirts of the Camden slums. I worked alongside undocumented aliens for a boss who liked to skive off and do his own thing for the pittance of $5.25 per hour, 40 to 50 hours a week, my only consolation being able to drive and wrench on cars when I was asked to do so.

I finally decided moving back home to Pennsylvania was preferable to working in a shop with high employee turnover and a customer satisfaction level I could scarely improve with even the most strenuous effort. Still paying off a debt for failed immigration paperwork to a stepfather who kicked me out of his house, I had to find another job.

That brings me to where I am today. A college-age joe who can't afford college, working two jobs, trying to stay on top of his responsibilities and not forget manner and courtesy so he doesn't get kicked out of house and home. Willing to sacrifice pride and dignity for self-preservation, kissing up to hotel guests who don't realize the bargain they're getting at $70 or so a night yet still ask for more. Dealing with 'customers' who are offended that a small cup of mustard costs them an outrageous $.25 cents in addition to the two free pretzels they got that are a shade browner then they were in the photoshopped advertisements. Spinning his wheels, forever wondering if he will ever see The American Dream (TM) come to fruition or if it was all a big goddamn lie and brown people from the Philippines can never ever achieve it, but thanks for the money and emotional investment anyway, you rube.

I look back on my formative years, still grimacing over the dumb shit I did here and there because I failed to think, still smiling at the good memories I did have, regretting the chances I never took because I was too chicken and was too concerned with keeping my head down, dreading the day government agents would break down my front door and shove a gun in my face and send me to jail because my parents couldn't afford to renew certain paperwork when I was ten years old. Despite these regrets, I can still say I had it made as a younger person. My only responsibilities were school work and cleaning up the apartment I lived in--well, there was also making sure to bust out the sump pump every time it rained or else our floor would flood.

All things considered, however, I had it easy back then. I didn't have to worry whether or not I would make rent, or consider how much I had to spend per week on food. I had hopes and dreams, energy and motivation, the latter of which are now squandered in everyday existence, the former of which are deferred as I remain hamstrung by government policy, continuing to dread the outcomes of potential failure to comply, fears bolstered by conservative discontent and anger at policies people don't understand in full, hatred from people I've never met yet I know want me out of their country in either handcuffs or in a body bag.

I miss being young. I miss being able to gather with friends regularly, I miss having less weight on my shoulders. Growing up really sucks, and I wish there were more moments that brought me joy, but I suppose my own personal misery and discontent makes those joyous occasions all the sweeter.

If I could go back in time and speak to my younger self, I would tell him to enjoy the life he already has, and that being an adult can come later, that he should cherish his youth while he still has it. At the same time, I would encourage him to be prepared for anything that comes his way, if only so that he would not struggle so hard.

Yet I cannot say those struggles haven't taught me anything. I haven't gone through many situations as an adult in his twenties where I didn't come away with more knowledge than before. I may continue to struggle, but I can say that I don't have it all that bad.

I really do wish I wasn't in such a rush to grow up, though.

by tremec6speed Sun 31 Mar 2013 - 15:15

I wish I could write poetry, I can't. Difficult enough to make a story someone other than myself would want to read. Kuroneko, MP5 your thoughts flow uncensored from the hideous filter of political correctness and I love it. Three Dog, the Poem by Robert Frost speaks eloquently for itself.
I do wonder however, if my cyborg Helen who is routinely abused by her perpetually mad handler might scrawl on scraps of paper to be thrown out.
'Pain mixed with love I feel.
He injects me when I fail and I love him more.
Yet when alone, I fear.
Not the enemy who tries to kill me at every turn,
but my 'brother' who hates me all the more and will hurt me again and again with orders of silence.
I fear yet love the man who hates me.
I remember a dream so real the drugs could not take it away.
Dante approached and offered release. His gun yelled but once and I was free.'

by Three Dog Sun 31 Mar 2013 - 19:38

tremec6speed wrote:'Pain mixed with love I feel.
He injects me when I fail and I love him more.
Yet when alone, I fear.
Not the enemy who tries to kill me at every turn,
but my 'brother' who hates me all the more and will hurt me again and again with orders of silence.
I fear yet love the man who hates me.
I remember a dream so real the drugs could not take it away.
Dante approached and offered release. His gun yelled but once and I was free.'

*sob* It's too early in the morning to be this sad. poetry share anyone? 361650

by tremec6speed Mon 1 Apr 2013 - 1:09

Three Dog wrote:
tremec6speed wrote:'Pain mixed with love I feel.
He injects me when I fail and I love him more.
Yet when alone, I fear.
Not the enemy who tries to kill me at every turn,
but my 'brother' who hates me all the more and will hurt me again and again with orders of silence.
I fear yet love the man who hates me.
I remember a dream so real the drugs could not take it away.
Dante approached and offered release. His gun yelled but once and I was free.'
*sob* It's too early in the morning to be this sad.

No Jose Croce, Salvatore Battaglia is a worse than a drunken Lucifer scratching an ass rash!! Guh?

$W\'ever$

by Officer_Charon Mon 1 Apr 2013 - 2:45

I've always had a fondness for Rudyard Kipling, since I first learned about The Jungle Book in Scouts... since then, Barrack-Room Ballads has been my favorite of his collections.

In it, he has several famous poems, to include "Tommy," which I'll visit another time. But ever since I read a snippet of it in Starship Troopers, "The 'Eathen" has been one of interest to me, not the least when I got promoted to Corporal in the Marines.

The 'Eathen

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone;
'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own;
'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about,
An' then comes up the regiment an' pokes the 'eathen out.

All along o' dirtiness, all along o' mess,
All along o' doin' things rather-more-or-less,
All along of abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho, *
Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so!

* abby-nay: Not now. kul: To-morrow. hazar-ho: Wait a bit.

The young recruit is 'aughty -- 'e draf's from Gawd knows where;
They bid 'im show 'is stockin's an' lay 'is mattress square;
'E calls it bloomin' nonsense -- 'e doesn't know no more --
An' then up comes 'is Company an' kicks 'im round the floor!

The young recruit is 'ammered -- 'e takes it very 'ard;
'E 'angs 'is 'ead an' mutters -- 'e sulks about the yard;
'E talks o' "cruel tyrants" 'e'll swing for by-an'-by,
An' the others 'ears an' mocks 'im, an' the boy goes orf to cry.

The young recruit is silly -- 'e thinks o' suicide;
'E's lost 'is gutter-devil; 'e 'asn't got 'is pride;
But day by day they kicks 'im, which 'elps 'im on a bit,
Till 'e finds 'isself one mornin' with a full an' proper kit.

Gettin' clear o' dirtiness, gettin' done with mess,
Gettin' shut o' doin' things rather-more-or-less;
Not so fond of abby-nay, kul, nor hazar-ho,
Learns to keep 'is rifle an' 'isself jus' so!

The young recruit is 'appy -- 'e throws a chest to suit;
You see 'im grow mustaches; you 'ear 'im slap 'is boot;
'E learns to drop the "bloodies" from every word 'e slings,
An' 'e shows an 'ealthy brisket when 'e strips for bars an' rings.

The cruel-tyrant-sergeants they watch 'im 'arf a year;
They watch 'im with 'is comrades, they watch 'im with 'is beer;
They watch 'im with the women at the regimental dance,
And the cruel-tyrant-sergeants send 'is name along for "Lance".

An' now 'e's 'arf o' nothin', an' all a private yet,
'Is room they up an' rags 'im to see what they will get;
They rags 'im low an' cunnin', each dirty trick they can,
But 'e learns to sweat 'is temper an' 'e learns to sweat 'is man.

An', last, a Colour-Sergeant, as such to be obeyed,
'E schools 'is men at cricket, 'e tells 'em on parade;
They sees 'em quick an' 'andy, uncommon set an' smart,
An' so 'e talks to orficers which 'ave the Core at 'eart.

'E learns to do 'is watchin' without it showin' plain;
'E learns to save a dummy, an' shove 'im straight again;
'E learns to check a ranker that's buyin' leave to shirk;
An' 'e learns to make men like 'im so they'll learn to like their work.

An' when it comes to marchin' he'll see their socks are right,
An' when it comes to action 'e shows 'em 'ow to sight;
'E knows their ways of thinkin' and just what's in their mind;
'E knows when they are takin' on an' when they've fell be'ind.

'E knows each talkin' corpril that leads a squad astray;
'E feels 'is innards 'eavin', 'is bowels givin' way;
'E sees the blue-white faces all tryin' 'ard to grin,
An' 'e stands an' waits an' suffers till it's time to cap 'em in.

An' now the hugly bullets come peckin' through the dust,
An' no one wants to face 'em, but every beggar must;
So, like a man in irons which isn't glad to go,
They moves 'em off by companies uncommon stiff an' slow.

Of all 'is five years' schoolin' they don't remember much
Excep' the not retreatin', the step an' keepin' touch.
It looks like teachin' wasted when they duck an' spread an' 'op,
But if 'e 'adn't learned 'em they'd be all about the shop!

An' now it's "'Oo goes backward?" an' now it's "'Oo comes on?"
And now it's "Get the doolies," an' now the captain's gone;
An' now it's bloody murder, but all the while they 'ear
'Is voice, the same as barrick drill, a-shepherdin' the rear.

'E's just as sick as they are, 'is 'eart is like to split,
But 'e works 'em, works 'em, works 'em till he feels 'em take the bit;
The rest is 'oldin' steady till the watchful bugles play,
An' 'e lifts 'em, lifts 'em, lifts 'em through the charge that wins the day!

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone;
'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own;
The 'eathen in 'is blindness must end where 'e began,
But the backbone of the Army is the non-commissioned man!

Keep away from dirtiness -- keep away from mess.
Don't get into doin' things rather-more-or-less!
Let's ha' done with abby-nay, kul, an' hazar-ho;
Mind you keep your rifle an' yourself jus' so!

by Three Dog Mon 1 Apr 2013 - 6:21

A little poem I wrote about my favourite character from The Wheel of Time.
[WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS]

Spoiler:

by Kurosaka "Ery" Erika Sun 12 May 2013 - 9:49

another poem written by me, especially for mother's day-

una luce dal cielo blu nei miei occhi,
eri tu quello che mi dia la grazia;
del mondo per i miei occhi accuratamente,
mi aspettavo qualcosa dico 'grazie' abbastanza per voi.

"Sono felice con te", come ho detto,
Io mi attengo a cuore dalla mia nascita ad oggi;
dal mio giorno di vedere la prima luce di questo mondo,
Per il giorno di prendersi cura di me il tuo cuore veramente.

"Sono fortunato ad avere te", come potrei dire,
dando il mio sentimento per te al mio meglio,
Per la storia ci sforziamo insieme in questo mondo,
Io cercherò di essere con voi ogni volta.

"Ho la fortuna di essere tuo figlio" Potrei dire a voi,
Come ho soggiorno al con voi con tutto il mio sentimento,
mamma, tu sarai sempre il mio compagno;
Fino tua morte ci ha lasciato con la tua eredità.

[Translation]

a light shining from the blue sky in my eyes,
you were the one that give me the grace;
of the world to my eyes throughly,
i could'nt say 'thank you' enough to you.

"I am happy with you" as i said to you,
I stick close to our heart from my birth to now;
from my day of seeing the first light of this world,
To the day of me caring your heart truly.

"I am lucky to have you" as i could say,
giving my feeling to you to my fullest,
To the history we strive together in this world,
I will try to be with you every time.

"I am lucky to be your child" i could say to you,
As i stay to with you with all my feeling,
Mother, you will always be my companion;
Till your death will left us with your legacy.

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