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Rated: E · Poetry · History · #2247819
The best regarded mother. Not comparable with human race.
Yashoda is a mother and a wife
Who does her duties exceptionally well
Sometimes, she even risks her life
To protect her sons and her husband.

She sells milk and other dairy products,
Home made with love and affection
She is the lady village head so she conducts
Every activity so gracefully and brilliantly

She is not afraid of anything except her son
For she often receives his complaints
That he had stolen 'makhan' for fun
And had broken mud vessels of young girls

She needs to handle her son amidst doing daily tasks
Raise her other elder son, Balram.
Once out of curiosity she asked,
"O my dear son Kanha, when will you mend your ways?"

Her son replied,"O mayya, I will improve as soon as you get me my bride,
Who is more beautiful than the moon goddess,
brave and ready to become my pride.
Please get me a bride as soon as possible."

Yashoda laughed at his innocent words
She looked at his naive small face and replied,
"I will find you a little bride, first you go and look at the herds
Feed them food and get their milk."

She encounter everyday such innocent shows
She gets the sweetest pleasure in the world
And this great pleasure the whole world knows
That she is not just an ordinary mother.

She has sons like Krishna and Balram
She is the epitome of patience to raise sons like them
They are the most dauntless ones to whom we dedicate a Psalm
I bow to them, I bow to Yashoda.

Poet's note


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