Wednesday, July 04, 2018

My little dove


My little dove
©   Ye Yint Thet Zwe
English translation  Zwe Hay Hman


My little dove,
I might have to carry
these to my grave -
Intense missing of you
And forlornness in icy winter
In a complete foreign land.

My little dove,
The dreams, the prospects
And concern and worry
To possess these
All are a good mother to be
And a good wife to be, too.

My dear little dove,
I failed to give you
A luxurious
and comfortable life.

Likewise, my pointing finger,
In fact, carries no real power.
Forgive me my love;
I dumped family’s joy
Over my country’s freedom, and
I sacrificed the joys of my family
Again, to feed my ego.

My dear little dove,
I was dump founded one day
Receiving a lecture from our daughter.
“We sacrificed sometimes for impractical deeds,
So they gave us no fruit
or perceived results,” said she,
but I found no words to requite her at all . . . . .

My dear little dove,
I, lying on my hospital bed
And gazing the white snowflakes
As they flew and landed on
And on the glass window by my bed,

Recounted the last story
That we in scripted on the fallen leaves . . . . .
So densely and so intensely lo!!

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