My hands were busy during the day.
I could not play or sing to you;
When you begged and invited me,
I didn't spare a minute for you.
Today I ironed the clothes and cooked, then washed,
I came running to you with a drawing and a cheerful laugh
and said: "Mom, look what a joke!"
I said, "Son, wait a minute, not now."
I take care to wrap you well,
the prayer saying to yourself and I go out,
I tiptoe to turn off the lamp –
and I should have stayed a moment longer.
Life is short, the years fly by and suddenly -
the boy has grown up and is now a man.
He is not beside you with his endless requests
and does not share its precious secrets.
The picture albums are put away,
games up to one have been played.
The evening prayer, a kiss for the night -
these are things of the past.
My hands constantly busy
now they stand still.
So slow, sluggish, empty is the day.
If only I could go back and do it
those things you wanted me with: "Mom, please!"