Dear mother...
Here I come again,
Can not give back,
All you have given me,
So I write my heart,
In modest words.
Words all I have got,
Words, never too good enough.
Mother, would I be in line,
If I said, I love you?
Tried to lean, you dribbled,
Held my hand and said
"Am to make leaning unnecessary"
Now I know, now I see why,
There few trees in the desert.
And this may hurt
But mother your biased
How could you love me
More than anyone in this world?
Mother, your weakness is,
You care too much,
Same to me your child.
So it flatters me,
To see a smile on your face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem