I do not forget the box of my father
this box when I make my first steps
this box where I had my light
This pretty thatched roof where I had my first meal
I do not forget the singing of birds on the roof
lulls me and keeps me from being afraid
these beautiful songs that filled me with happiness.
and I each told me it was for me
This beautiful box that I saw my first blow candles.
the box of my father was an infinite whole
although I will see other countries
even if I meet other cultures,
I can not forget my first break
let alone my first tears dried.
all that I knew him in the box of my father
never forget where we came from