Feels old days that I passed just to want to see rupamu. I counted the seconds after listening to your voice. But I felt very long wait. I always stand at the door just to see and await your arrival. Every time I thought that the creaking door you are also who was to come. Every time the phone rang I feel that You call. Every sound of vehicles passing by I feel that You came.
However, it does not exist. I waiting in vain and shattered hopes, that there is only despair. What was left was grief from all the fatigue that had been felt. As she wept for herself and the fate which was already destined by Him.
My son ... mom is not asking for much, and does not charge you absurd. A mother asked, make your mother as a friend in your life. Make this poor mother as a maid in your house, so it could be I looked at your face, for she remembered well the days of happy childhood.
And my mother pleading to you, kid! Thou shalt not put enmity meshes with me, do you dispose of your face when she wanted to look at your face!
She notes that to you, make your mother's house, one of your haven, so that you can not ever stop to it even if only one second. Do not make it as a trash can that you never visit, or if you are forced to go while you cover your nose and you were passed out.
My son, has also bent my back. Bergemetar my hand, because my body had been eaten by age and ravaged by disease ... Stand should be being carried, sitting was supposed to be carried, yet my love for you still as ever ... Still like the ocean that never dry. Still like the wind that never stops.
Had you one day be glorified by a man, surely you will reply in kind kindness with kindness. Meanwhile, back to your mother ... Where's your mind, boy!? Where is your good reply! Is not milk should be rewarded with a similar milk! But why boy! Mother's milk that you give back to the tuba. Is not Allah Ta'ala has said, "Is not reply except with goodness too good!" (Surah Ar-Rahman: 60) As if your heart so hard, and have so far yourself?! After passing his days and later time!
O my son, every time I hear that you are happy with your life, each had also increased my happiness. How not, you are the fruit of my hands, You are the result of my fatigue. You are the profits of all my efforts! Presumably what sin have I done so that you make me your mortal enemy! Did I ever do make mistakes in one time for hanging out with you, or do I ever fail to serve you?
Continue, if not so, the difficult was it for you to make my status as slaves and servants of the most despicable of the many maids and slave. All they had to get his reward!? Where's a decent wage for me, O my son!
Can you give me a little protection under the shade of your greatness?Can you bestow a little of your affection for the treatment of pain this poor old man? Meanwhile, Allah Ta'ala loves those who do good.
To be continued .....
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