It was a room filled with anguish and cry
A thrust of roar from belly of the soul
A push for a sigh, reward of a try
A nurtured grieve for what's hither a hole.
Out blares the yell but deaf within herself
Torn between two roads, roads of life and death
Life at this point is nothing but a pelf
That which to life is thorny for a birth.
Had she ever known, might not make this choice
For this curse, she battles to save two being'
A laboring yell is not a singing voice
World might not be world had mothers not been.
A woman's cry is the birth of the world
Their mortal being is as second to God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem