Thousands lie buried in the lap of Mother,
The Mother, who hitherto, sustained her progenies,
Went berserk, for suffocated was She now,
By the tall jungles of concrete and steel.
Desperate was She, for the saplings and the green
Woods to grow in her womb,
But the progenies had desired otherwise.
So, She shook hard the ruthless jungle in deep frustration
And now thousands lie buried deep in her lap.
But filled was She, with remorse
For a Mother is a mother.
Only in her lap, a mother with a child survived
Cried high and loud the infant
But only his mother could hear
And a mother knows what’s best for her son
She fed the baby and fed for three days
But when the milk in her breast got over
Cut did She her veins, so that the infant could survive on her blood.
Yes, the baby survived for rescue came the next day
But the mother had left the world with a bright smile on her face
A smile of great succour
Look how beautiful the Mother is! How beautiful! ….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem