Walking in the streets, I saw a boy
Stealing bread and butter
From a small bakery
Situated near the gutter
I caught his hand and
started to utter
For whom are you taking
this bread and butter
and also from an untidy shop
situated near the gutter
Eyes with tear
and with little fear
He replied- It was for
his mother dear
Who was starving
and had nothing to eat
Also, cant earn
due to swollen feet
I asked with little courage
why is your father not here
He replied with anger
might be somewhere drinking beer
He continued by saying that
She loved me more than other
No one can love me such
Not father, nor brother
Because of weeping
he couldn't say further
This cry was for whom
It was for his mother
Who loved him
More than other
and who was his
the very first lover
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The love of a child for his mother - well described in a small story, Satyam. Hope to get more from you.