O the child of my era
O the child of my era

▪️Mother calls you the apple of her eye,
But you burn yourself under the shadow of sky,
▪️ It is your aeons to play with mates,
But you face the penury and ruthless hates,
▪️Your hands were as frail as little petals,
They turned granite for doing the fettels,
▪️You had to sleep on your mother's lap,
Now bearing daily some thousand salps,
▪️O rich! The imperial houses in which you dwell,
He has contrived them , giving his Holy smell,
▪️You were to go to School and flourish,
Alack,no one is there who...