A mother, an angel with wings of gold,
She puts us in the sun, and helps us mould.
Her sweet talks and her purposes so bright,
She would struggle with us to put us in the limelight.
When she kisses it comforts all the sorrows and pain,
Her blessings, her prayers, never go in vain.
It takes time to understand her intentions for our future,
But most of us mistakenly take her as the cruel butcher.
She would cut on her spending for a pretty dress for us to wear,
And in return all she needs is a little love and care.
No one can know a mother’s worth soon,
Don’t forget that she, to us, is a god’s boon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
it's touching and inspiring.