The candle melts itself,
And the wick burns itself,
Just to give us away its light.
The incense stick ashes itself,
And turns to smoke itself,
Just to give us its aroma.
The sandalwood grinds itself,
And a paste, it becomes itself,
Just to give us away its scent.
The rose crushes itself,
And in water sinks itself,
Just to give us its flavor-drink.
The sugar cane crushes itself,
And becomes crystal itself,
Just to sweeten our food.
The field takes the seeds itself,
And turns them into plants itself,
Just to give us rich corn.
The tree labors itself,
And grows tall itself,
Just to give us its juicy fruits.
The cocoon spins itself,
And then unwinds itself,
Just to give us its silk.
The milk curdles itself,
And again churns itself,
Just to give us its butter.
The mother suffers pain herself,
But still smiles herself,
Just to feed the baby with her milk.
The camphor fumes itself,
And turns black smoke itself,
Just to illuminate the Lord.
One can gain something,
Only by losing something,
That's the law of nature.
Yes, the sacrifice's the mother,
Of what, in our life, we gather,
As the fruit of our labor.
So, grieve not over your loss,
A stepping stone to your success,
If you want to remain happy always.