My mother's love was reluctant to die with her;
In my grandma's heart it was prolific and profuse.
Nobody on earth yet compensate the lost love
But to my grandma it was her mission and ambition.
She carried in her ears the last words of my mother,
"Amma, give him the rest of love you have still for me,
Never cause to sadden him or his eyes to be wet
I am leaving, take care of my dream and joy of life.
When my baby-cries bruised the silence of nights
Seeking my mother's warmth and warm breast milk
Grandma held me close to her bosom and wished,
"If my wilted old breasts were able to lactate for him".
Like an idol she listened to my prayers in silence
Fulfilling as many as possible leaving the rest to God
Strains and restraints had never discouraged her:
She lived a dedicated life seldom seen so sacrificial
She encouraged me with stories of morals and ethics
And solved my riddles and untied my Gordian knots
Today when cruel pains creep in and distance sleep
I remember, in vain, the lullabies of my loving grandma.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem