The wind ne'er ceases to blow,
And so is a mother's love you know,
Like the moon that ne'er leaves the earth,
So she was with me from birth;
And just as the river fills the
oceans with water-
In this manner, she fill'd me with milk o' laughter.
Mama, as gentle as a dove,
I'm quite sure that you are from above.
With these great works you've done, -
Anyone,
Even the blind, can tell
That certainly Papa chose well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem