The great poet, his words so worth,
Called me mother, the Mother Nature.
Yes, I am mother, the mother of all .
With no lust, no greed, I delivered,
And nurtured all my offsprings alike.
My breasts feed milk so sweet
And delicious, not just a diet, but elixir.
The elixir to all the life pulse on this planet.
Snakes swallow frogs, tigers beat deers,
Just of hunger, not of taste, I thought.
But my sons killing each other, not of hunger,
But of lust, their lust, ludicrous and lucrative
Now a great fire, that burn my breasts.
These green forests, my heart-vessels
This burning fire, not sparks, but,
Flames of lust recessive in my sons,
Even maternal love can’t subside, so violent,
So fierce a fire too, that my head down
With utmost shame to feed my breast,
To such inhuman humans to be my sons.
Don’t call me mother, though my heart
Still beat for you and my breasts
Still emulate the divine elixir to you all.