While homeward bound I thought about
The way, through every mile,
In which to greet my mother, whom
I missed for quite a while.
What pleasing words to say to her?
Dear words they need to be,
When she, who rocked my cradle, will
Be reaching out to me.
translated by Leslie A. Kery
Sándor PetőfiHungarian poet, revolutionist 1 January 1823 — 31 July 1849 |
Plans gone up in smoke (poem) |
Details:Time of publication: September 5, 2011 Length: 251 characters Favorited by: 0 member |