Mother, is the living shrine,
To her eye the son remains ever green,
Whole the world is aware of the son,
The mother’s eye never transforms from the morn.
The son stations to adult hood,
He gets equipped with different moods,
He learns the black art of daily change,
He experiences the relation-mystery widening his range.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem