What care do I
Be it day or night
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Life, alas, is all surprise,
Fortunes fall, and fortunes rise;
Around, at times, are friends, nice,
Then, unkind, staring faces in a trice;
What care do I
Be it rain or shine,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Some look up to me as wise,
Others scorn at my many a vice;
Some do think I am very good,
Despise, certainly, a few others would;
What care do I
Be it blame or praise,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Work, at times, like elixir, thrills,
Often, it’s just endless toil that kills;
This body, like fire, is often aglow,
But soon, itself a disease, is laid low;
What care do I
Be it pleasure or pain,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

Some bid me pray to chosen Gods,
The One with a discus, a mighty Lord,
Or with a trident in a graceful hand,
Or the Unseen One, even in far-off land;
What care do I
Be it man or man-lion,
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!

This pen writes and having writ,
Looks for an eye that lingers on it;
May it strike a chord in a soft heart,
May it be trampled under a passing cart;
What care do I
I am just a passer-by;
My Mother is all – I know!
My Mother’s all I know!