Love they can
Nourish they can
Calm they can
Bear they can
They can even earn.
Not respect
Perhaps love?
Money?
Yes.
Then get hold of her
Entangle her
Cloud her mind again
But this time chant a new mantra.
"Your position is enviable
You have always been the chief nourisher in life's feast.
You are the mother
You are the blessing
Therefore you should also give away all you earn."
She relents.
Having been the giver always
Does not doubt the cunning words.
She slaves within and without
In the home and the world
Having no other sphere she drains her entire resources for hearing the mantra
It is her Elysium
Her salvation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem