For nine months, she bore the pains
Expecting nothing, but a mother’s gain
You designed her clothes with infancy stains
Now, will you make her sufferings go down in vain?
She gave you a name befitting her belief
Yopu were her joy, a solace for her grief
She had none, but to you, everything she’d give
And when you’re sick, she prays, hoping you’d live.
She’s more than a woman, she’s a mother indeed
Denying herself luxuries, she provided all your needs
Sometimes she stayed hungry, so you’d have all to feed
Don’t forget the labour pains, become a perfect seed.
That’s your mother, though she’d wrinkled out
You are why her youthfulness is still not out
Mother’s day, that’s what March 14th is all about
Celebrate your mother, you’re why she’s proud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem