Shall I fence the chicken with great fervent,

To seduce them with grains or simply laments?

They listen none to my commands.

Shall I sweep the floor with mighty strength that I lack,

The besom trumpets to protest my grip in a wack?

I proceed none and wish that I’m handicapped.

Shall I wash the faded clothes with blistered hands?

Blades on the washboard thrust my bones to expand,

I received cares none as my hands became wildland.

Shall I nurse my youngers with tender great?

They grow in shapes and left me without educate.

I complained none, during nights I prayed.

Shall I begrudge the fortune and family that they are born with?

They stroll through torrents as I build the bridge.

I should complain none as I spot the ridge.

Shall I pity you for those mountains you overcame?

They left you void and made you lame.

Still,

You remain yourself with grace.