Maa was lying on the bed contemplating a blank look as she heaved 'this' (her) words:
"I will not live for long"
O, Maa
say 'this' not
to chock my throat;
have me under thy sagging skin
caressing thy warmth
It cognates love
that was your origin;
O Mother,
say not more 'this'
An orphan I feel
Look my words
all gets a crump;
say thee not 'this'
that thunder my heart
O, Maa take me along
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