Washing dishes,
Scrubbing floors,
Doing all those
House wife chores.
Vacuum cleaning,
Ironing clothes.
On and on
The drudgery goes.
Being born a male
Was oh so grand,
Seldom asked
To lend a hand.
But some future day
This can be all yours.
You’re on your own,
Doing all the chores.
It’s then you appreciate
The things your wife did,
She was just like your mother,
When you were a kid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
For once a Man (By Man i don't mean human being but Male specie) has appreciated the household work and not called it child's play! Preets