My mother could not understand my poem
though it was written in my mother-tongue
she only gathered
that there was some grief in her son's mind

But wherefrom his grief came
while I am here to guard him
she wondered

She scanned my poem
and said to herself - look , people, look
despite the mother
who gave him birth from her womb,
the son tells his grief to the papers

Then she took the papers to her breast
hoping perhaps
it is the only way of getting near to her son.