I
wake up,
morning breeze
touch my blurry eyes,
Mom inside the kitchen
in her sweet world of dream,
know my call of moment
serve the tea with home made dish.
My
thought
begin with
the tinkling sound
that, kitchen produce
inspiration to move steadily
with joys and sorrows of life.
I
can not
forget, what
kitchen show me
the love, the joining hands,
a family need to grow up
in this ambitious struggling world,
to stand with honor in the society.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem