daughter

At the end of Sofija’s adoption ceremony, the director of the center for social work stood and told our translator that she had a poem to read. She did not speak English, but someone in the center had written a poem in Serbian and had it translated so that she could read it for us. I have to admit, that it was difficult for me to understand what she was saying and I did not think it was all that special (at that moment). Last night, I opened the packet containing our adoption decree and saw that it contained both an Engleski and Serbski copy of the poem. Whoever wrote the poem, knows my child.

Daughter

It isn’t true that love is made when it is born

Than is still younger by far

When your face is seen, it is reborn

And shining like the brightest star

Those eyes that follow you growing

They give you love that you long for

Hold out your hands for they are showing

Their heart to you forever more

Remember this day when the love is bred

When this line of bliss is made

Because today is your birthday instead