When I was young, I liked this poem. And I recited, recited more than thousand times, remembering that I had my own mother too. When I was grown up, I stopped reciting it. But once again I remembered that I'd liked the poem, when I lost my mother. That moment, I didn't know what I had to do for her. Then I just read it for her.
If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o´mine, O mother o´mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o´mine, O mother o´mine!
If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o´mine, O mother o´mine!
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o´mine, O mother o´mine!
If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayer would make me whole,
Mother o´mine, O mother o´mine!
- Rudyard Kipling
on the day, no in the night when i lost the one whom i loved, but to whom i've never pronounced "i love you"
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