O grandest of mothers! Where do you go all by yourself?
Fully adorned in a walking-cane, a neatly wrapped shawl over the shoulders,
An ever-bending frame.
All a compliment of this world.
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Your once youthful skin, showing deep crevasses of lives imprint;
The multifarious shades you must have lived.
My long eventful nights have hurried away;
My mornings have embraced the warmth of the afternoon sun.
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Seasons spent like wild fires.
All a compliment of this world.
I have lived among great friends and great strangers,
And now it is time for me to board the evening train.
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