When my mother She who is not All at once
Was a young girl Who she was I could see
Before the war Waits to be My mother
Reading sad books Yet she is In eternity
By the river Already I told her
sometimes, she Mother She always
Looked up, wisely Whose child Would be
But did not dream Though not yet The one
The day I would Could not be Whose son
Be born to her An other You see
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