My children, you are all grown up,
And walk tall with ease and confidence.
I am and I was, as I was long before,
Change for me meant no change at all.
Hope and despair, pain and pleasure,
I have known as my own limbs.
I bore you with hope when faced with despair,
The pain of bearing you was pleasure to me.
To your father, I was only an object,
Of desire, of service; a cushion and a doormat,
I could not raise my eyes or my voice,
To complain, to pray, implore or cry out.
Deaf and dumb I became in matrimony,
I know love is to give and ask not for returns.
Surrender I did to wishes of one and all,
My desires I bundled and threw them off.
Motherhood is all this and probably more,
Options I never had and care no more.
Let peace be with you and with me turmoil,
Swayed and uprooted I would dissolve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem