My mother washes her dishes with ashes,
She can't afford dish-washing soaps,
One day soon, she always hopes.
A handful of rice is all that she has
To cook for us, her lads and lass;
With this harsh life how does she cope!
She is a mother who lives in hope.
Hunger is no more a stranger to her,
An Unwelcome guest, it’s always here.
It will depart one day soon,
My mother lives in hope for that boon.