Oh what bliss, Im blessed with every word I utter,

Those words, rich and unique like my mother,

There is no other, Im sure its true, no cover.

Her words she spoke into me, born into her tongue,

This is my mothers tongue, so me , give me more, I beg.

 

Speak , cry, love your mothers tongue,

dream, live and if not not anything, die.

For your Mothers Tongue, is all you are,

Your soul, and your whole ,is so in her words,

After birth, into this wrechedness, its solace,

Its Divinity, two thousand years, still in place.

My mothers Tongue, still my identity,

Run ,struggle, juggle into someonelses kitty,

And when you return, its her pure serenity,

My last dance, a certain craving in any party,

Give me my Mothers tongue, into the ruins of my city.

 

P.s all you people...................... just for a second speak your

Mothers Tongue......for once and tell me about its Bliss.

 

Vazgha Tamizh