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O mother mine, I did not eat the butter
come dawn, with the herds,
you send me to the jungle,
o, mother mine, I did not eat the butter.
all day long with my flute in the jungles
at dusk do I return home.
but a child, younger than my friends
how could I reach up to the butter?
all the gopas are against me
on my face they wipe the butter,
you mother, are much too innocent,
you believe all their chatter.
there is a flaw in your behaviour,
you consider me not yours,
take you herd-stick and the blanket
I'll dance to your tune no longer.
Surdas, Yasoda then laughed,
and took the boy in her arms,
mother mine I did not eat the butter.
Sant Surdas
Read poems about / on: mother, dance, believe, child, home, children, friend
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Sant Surdas
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