A Mother's Cuss

The widow daughter of the ancient mother, With pains in her heart and tears in her eyes, Regrets to give birth to the fighting sons, Raised white hair head towards the skies. Your grandsons maltreated me always, Bathing in blood for thousands of years, Killing each other in your pious name, Forced a painful life in thousand fears. They made swords, guns and explosives, They fought for women, for gold and land, I was worried but I never told you, You don't know how I managed to stand. I never thought they will make weapons, To turn their mother into coal and ashes, Mother! Now interfere, do something, I'll close my eyes this time on lashes!