MOTHER, BEAT ME NOT

In that trodden land
I have reaped
Many a fruits of love

Day night her cuddle
Heave the heart, to
Nestle my curl

A single cry would
Pull the heaven down
And rain the milk

Never it happened there
That I smiled the reflex
And not received the fondle

Every debt of her love
Will never extinguish
The flavour to my soul

Shoddy and supple now
Thy skins sag the bones
The sight cry thy look

Mother, beat me not
By thy old age
I am ever eternal son

Still my lonely heart
Crawl thy love
In universal feed

Whenever I escape the time
I pillow thy love
In witness to my being

In that trodden land
I have reaped
Many a fruits of love