My son, your dad is not your dad,
Just a dad for sometime more,
A statue of dust and clay am I
To disintegrate finally.
One day your papa will be dead and gone,
Turning a deaf ear to your calls,
Papa, papa, where are you,
Are you listening me?
My son, I am not your papa,
Your papa is not your papa as he has to go away finally,
just call me for the time being.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem