Today I am transformed into a lucrative man,
All the restrictions of my life have turned into ban.
Today I have achieved that I dreamt,
But this long list will never have a denouement.
When I spot the old pages of my past,
The first thing that turns me on is grandpa’s podcasts.
Father always considered me as his younger brother,
Quite often he used to say “Son don’t you bother.”
But! Hold on, I can never forget the most pacific and soothing memory that exists in mother’s lap,
Where, I used to have a very comfortable nap.
How ironical is God’s creation.
Life and death occurs without any pre-information.
But God’s irony fades away, when it comes for a mother,
Who’s, next to compressed leather,
This, gets smashed after excessive triturate, but never loses its ability to consolidate.
When I recall my past, which “briskly blew away”,
I feel that I have something to say: someone to appreciate,
Who, throughout her life remained deficit.
I still remember her pervasive style,
That, she used to produce a responsible smile.
She never grabbed the chance to be in front,
Same as a councilor acts when the king accomplishes his interest to hunt.
In my colorful life there is some blank space which would only be filled by mother’s face, with festoons of roses and the blooms of her college life proposals.
Hey Lord! Take away all my valuable assets,
but for once return me mother’s lap where my life subsists.