My translation
I open the old dusty blue photo album,
I stare at my every self portraits. There I see: figures so small, innocent, and impeccable.
My wanderring thoughts, my childhood was so warm and loved.
I'm reminded to what people have said about my life.
They said that I was always pleased, I was always held (by my mom)
Beautiful melodies were always heard from my her.
Every single cries from my tiny lips were never be her burden
Her hands so soft and prescious lifted this small unvaluable being
All of her everything in her life had been given by her
Mom, it doesn't matter if you're or you're not with me, you will always be here in my heart.



posted by siduahuruf @ 7:23 p. m.