Mother, Am I Thine Eight-Months Child?

Mother, am I Thine eight-months child? Thy red eyes cannot frighten me! My riches are Thy Lotus Feet, which Shiva holds upon His breast; Yet, when I seek my heritage, I meet with excuses and delays. A deed of gift I hold in my heart, attested by Thy Husband Shiva; I shall sue Thee, if I must, and with a single point shall win. If Thou dost oppose me, Thou wilt learn what sort of mother's son I am. This bitterly contested suit between the Mother and Her son -- What sport it is! says Ramprasad. I shall not cease tormenting Thee Till Thou Thyself shalt yield the fight and take me in Thine arms at last. [Translated by Elizabeth U. Harding]