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.