Finally, I returned to my native land
And the dinner was all set,
Sweet aroma filled the kitchen.
"Thank God for my mother's skill, " I prayed.
Everybody so delighted to get together
And the air was consumed by stories.
But deep within me, I felt something absent.
I couldn't figure out what until
I saw her coming towards the table,
Gaining unsteady step, not like before.
"How comes she is crippled? " I enquired
Adding another story in the noisy table.
"Bullet wounds. Probably someone
Caught her red-handed.
Cats are cats. Stealing is their trait, " mom replied.
I could felt her pain
But she seemed unaware
And sit beside me,
Praying to read her mind
And share the piece of meat I had.
Yes cats are cats.
They knows no sins,
To think and reason is not rewarded
But we are human, the master of creation.
Yes, the lone creature that can distinguish good from evil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow