When?

The baby sun and the infant moon

Increases my longing more each day.

I hope that my turn will come soon

And I'll have one for myself to play.

The noisier noons and calm evenings

Reminds me when the children are up.

The duller and more pathetic nights,

Make me cry, yet I don't give up!

The things at home at their places,

Are waiting too for the arrival

Of the little one who'll go places

Sooner and will return all well.

Like the thread of the kite that's flying,

I am so attached to you, my little one!

"Take your time. Thats fine!", am saying,

With that hope, but always asking when!

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When?