My late father once imparted to me,
As did my mother, echoing the decree,
'The son of a noble man, harbouring no harm,
The son of a faithful woman, a single blessed charm.
Listen well, let not pride cloud your sight,
Be like the eagle, bearing wisdom's light,
And like the pigeon, carry forth the message true,
To your children, to those who seek it from you.
As you soar higher, embrace gratitude's embrace,
Remembering the past, its enduring grace,
And no need to scorn the refuse dump's unkind plight,
For from its midst sprouts the mushroom's quiet might.
Those mushrooms, guardians of your early days,
Nourished your youth, in humble, modest ways,
And when hunger threatened, they offered their aid,
And guided and supported, in paths yet unswayed.'
5th of June,2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem