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Jan 2019
Who in this world is the dearest without a crown,
and takes great care of us when we're ill?
Her gentle glance calms our demons down
and in tough moments encourages our will.

Who has the blond hair of late and gray autumn
to whom we owe thousands of poems of affection?
She has the bluest eyes, that never will be forgotten,
teaches us how to always win and perfection.

Who is the joy that surrounds us every time we blink?
Teaching us the love for books, country, and nation,
she tells us that the stars know everything we think,
she helps us to fulfill our dreams, without hesitation.

Who has the mouth like a rosebud in bloom?
For she was hurt so many times in her struggle,
she comforts our anger, our anxiety with her perfume,
even if her life is continuous adrenaline and trouble.

Who has the smile like after the hot summer rain,
even if this creature is wearing the eternal burden
to be the teacher of our lives, over and over again,
although she's overseas, of her love we're certain.

Who's the psychologist in our moments of dilemma?
There is no time for herself, not even for a short break,
with tears in her eyes, never complaining, she's a chimera,
she gathers all the concerns that worry her, all the ache.

Who loves us unconditionally, no matter what?
We are her frisky angels day by day, we are her shade,
we capture her eyes swollen by crying, but
her soul is agitated, strong, and she's never afraid.

Who is the strongest, but for herself, never?
The pressure is always colouring her thoughts.
She follows her own imperfect destiny, however
she's the architect of love, not for profit, but for loss.

Who wouldn't want to radiate of quiet and peace?
She does not. She does everything in her own way.
She's the picture of endless love that will never cease,
answering to our millions of questions every single day.

Who is the sea nourished with tears of longing? I admit.
When we think of her, we get hot chills, I can tell.
We love her, for we don't know the way not to do it,
without her, we would be voiceless in our own shell.
Irina BBota
Written by
Irina BBota  42/F/London
(42/F/London)   
647
 
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