My mother's land, a land of tears;
where fear grips the heart,
where death has chosen as it's bed
and leave nothing but sorrow to bear...............
I hear the foot steps of soldiers parade;
i sense war, and yes! No doubt, it's war.
I see death par ambulate on door steps,
waiting for someone to welcome it......
Our river banks are going dry;
tears seizes to dry up.
I fear death, but it has no fear for me.
Death chooses to make friend with me;
o! Poor me.....
My mother's land, a land where people come and go,
where people buy & sell, where people live & die,
where people struggle for a living.
Where birth & death plays the cat and dog.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem