Mothers
To mums who held the candles
For fathers to light up lives
With care, vision and affection
That gave the chance
to roll on without slowing
Affection was sown and
now is harvested
Fruits ripened without spoilage
Colours bright, yellow red and greenish
Enticing mouths to
Screate perfume as saliva
I can see that life is a cycle
The candle light deeming slowly
For the oil is getting scanty
While her hand is shaking by the second
and those fruits drying by the minute
From their eyes you can tell some stories
If you care pray for the mothers,
who always hold the candle for the fathers
even in paradise the final abode
where stream is always flowing
(Abdullahi Nashe dedicated to mothers throughout the world)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem