After lights were put off for sleep,
And I drew myself the blankets on,
I had a poem springing to life
Within me.
I knew that if I dont sit up
And write it down now,
I may not be able to do it ever
And yet I slept.
Now I remember only this thought
Accompanying that child not born
But not a bit of the face
Or parts of that child!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem