Whatever be the time
To serve all the needs
Who can become like my mother?
Keeping the smile only
With her saree
Expects which son
Shall get the change-saree
While never taking
The first saree my father got for her!
Expecting the day
Of final call
When time would call her
Permanently into its fold,
She fears the day
As the worry mounts in her mind
As to who would help father
After her departure!
1 9 09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem