Motherless Child
Rabindranath Thakur
I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to hum
while rocking the cradle.
I cannot remember my mother,
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flower floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the temple
comes to me as the scent of my mother.
I cannot remember my mother,
only when from bedroom window I send my eyes
into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze
on my face has spead all over the sky.
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