An English Translation of his poem"Nurse".
Tending the ailing, the wretched is not mere a service, it is an act of worship,
Like mother, love and compassion is the very nature of The Eve!
This duel with death, indeed valour and manliness it is,
It is mercy amid fires of pain and a beacon in the darkness!
Every human is a child to a woman, symbol of her beauty and perfection,
If she is scorned, worth of whose else these people have acknowledged,
A herd of benighted asses, they trash into dust every gem.
To be a daughter of the beauty, a mother of the life; God created Eve,
But we, the bards, reduced her to a bar-tender or a flirt,
That wanton Western culture projected her a seductive temptress!
It neither made her a sister nor elevated her to a mother,
Neither letting her espouse the faith, nor this world,
The real forte of The Eve is compassion, affection and serving,
This duel with death is not only service, it is an act of worship!
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