My young son
I will tell you today
Something about me
My way of life was not smooth
It was like the narrow rural path
With many ups and downs,
Small pieces of bricks & stones,
Knee-level mud, slippery soil
Thorns and splinters.
I was bare footed
I had no money
For buying a pair of shoes
But all the time I walked....
I didn't stop anywhere.
My legs injured
Pricked my feet with thorns
I slipped on the way and fell down
My dresses become dirty
But I did not stop
I took the challenge
Dropped the bricks and stones on the mud
And crossed the path with thick mud.
So my dear son....
Look at your front always
Be steady and confident
You have to be strong enough
To cross the long way
Of your life.
I am still walking through slippery path
With a hope of reaching on pitch road.
(Wild Flowers)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
life was like rural path...really wonderfully expressed about feeling in life. Nicely penned.