Your grace I get hearing your flute,
So sweet, so true you are,
I am your maternal aunt,
Sister of your mother,
Oh Lord, you get my filial love,
Come, oh Lord, you come into my lap
Let me fondle you, let be behold!
Oh dear Lord child,
You look so cute wearing yellow dress,
Having feather of peacock,
You look so smart
Like cuckoo, you sing and
Like dark cloud you dance,
You sing and you play flute,
Neither do I eat, nor do I sleep,
Without hearing your flute,
No single day is spent,
You are my day, you are my hope,
You are my essence of living,
You are only and only my nephew!
Your grace falls on me and Earth,
My motherhood cries to get you,
If not mother I am, it does not matter,
You call me aunt, your mother's sister,
I am Budhashaya, your aunt, by your grace,
I have felt you and seen you in seven ocean!
© Budhashaya Behera,02 February 2020. All rights reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem