O' Mother,
I wait for your call,
your call to run
carefree in orchids
full of glee;
I wait for your call,
your call to step
into freezing waters
and streams;
I wait for your call,
your call to breathe
in the sharp air
that runs free;
I wait for your call,
your call to admire
your beauty, not in photos
but in reality;
I wait for your call,
your call to take me home
the multistoried home
under the shade of the Chinar;
I wait for your call,
your call to sweep
me off my feet
and take me galore;
O' Mother,
your call has still
not come,
but here I stand steadfast
waiting.
