Mother, Iii

O dear mother, you have left me, on one of those deep and dark winter nights. When the chilling wind from the northern frozen waste came by the window of your heart and violently shook it, O dear mother, you left me, stepping on the pile of shattered stars and waning moon By that same window, I, your daughter is kneeling and praying, and in this moment of tranquility, and in this moment of darkness, your care from above stands as tears in your eyes and turns into the descending starlight and comes to me, who prays with folding hands while looking up you in the heaven I am walking by the lake where the poor woman’s enmity once waved high, I am walking a path by your mind’s lake where the lapse of time calmed the surging waves, hence the water is quiet as it can be For the sound of gentle waves is the lullaby once you sang to me I, your daughter is, under the soft moonbeam, floating lightly on the water in the sweet dream where I roam O dear mother, wet with early morning’s dew, you are praying for your daughter. And, I, your daughter, present a nosegay of white carnation on your folded knees, and sob