My Mothers Face by Uluro Ado

"Could you show me your mother's photo?"
One morning a friend of mine said.
"Just take a good look around you,"
I smiled as I nodded my head.

"Those valleys all recovered with wrinkles-
My dear mother's cheeks are they!
Those hillocks with vein-like streamlets-
My dear mother's hands are they!

"Those shining blue lakes with their lashes of reed
Are my mother's caressing eyes,
The silver hair of my mother-
Those willows where mists arise.

"No need for a photo," I told my friend,
"For there is my mother, alive.
Come, look at her, friend, how lovely she is;
Long may she live and thrive!"

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg. Soviet Literature 1976.