The curtain in my room is pale yellow,
With golden leaves on it,
My mother lived in this room for a little while,
And left a little bit of her.
She told me, she loved the curtain,
And used to gaze at the leaves,
And ponder about every one in her life,
Each leaf reminded her of each one of her beloved ones.
She prayed for them,
Uttering each and every name,
Each and every person precious in her life,
And in the end,
The names were countless!
The curtain still hangs there.