My illiterate mother,
A lady of unfound trailblazer
In the horizon of my all hopes,
Though she's unaware of my hope of globe
When I go with her
In case any works to here and there
I broach on the thoughts of desires
Of her mind to discourse and start to sure
With being childish and uncared
She listens me sometime over
But in the end she persistently sounds out
'Yes, but this predesires not to be craved for.'
She adds it to say
Very silently and what she construes,
'Never anticipate of unhandy things,
It's up to God, so he may not make that true '.
But I stay unconfessed
And say, ' no, no, it's all our KARMAS'
If we want to make the desires,
We have to turn them up with our KARMAS.'
With saying 'oh! ' she nods
And budges me to back to works
There I see, she becomes active
In KARMA heartedly, though she doesn't believe so
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem