Like a lullaby in a cradle, the mother’s breast overflows with milk,
As in her eyes, a vast sky of compassion gently drifts to sleep.
A chain of bondage encircles her neck, a symbol of slavery’s weight,
Yet in her heart, the rhythm of freedom pulsates—for she is a mother, a sanctuary of love.
At her feet, six tender blossoms lie, like fallen snowflakes pure and white,
Their bodies a tranquil snow-cloud, their breath a melodic mountain stream.
Every tiny tear is transformed into nourishing milk,
Flowing into the haven of her chest, sustaining the essence of life.
Though the outer world may be a tale of ravenous shadows,
The little ones’ world is bathed in the warmth of their mother’s milk—
From it, tomorrow’s promise is born, a new dawn unfolding.
When the sun rises, the fragrance of dew-kissed grass will reach their lips,
But tonight, there’s only the lullaby—the gentle music of life flowing within the heartbeat of their mother.
