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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464565" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Heavy Satchel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Often when after the hours of noon, <br>We were set free from the school, <br>I came out with no addition in the stuff, <br>Except scarred, lashed legs and back.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I found my mother awaiting in front, <br>Seeing my laming gait she examined, <br>The scars on my back, turning over, <br>The hind edge of my gray shirt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She caressed my swollen hands, <br>I stood silent in front of her, <br>For she knew amid the high walls, <br>What had been imparted to me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Giving me a quarter of loafy-sweet, <br>Consoled me to forget my pangs, <br>She never complained to the builders, <br>Against coercion upon her child.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She embracing me soaked my pain, <br>As sponge does, blotting fallen water, <br>Two tears moving down from her eyes, <br>Were enough to slacken her heart.<br>Then she helped me crossing the road, <br>Which took an enormous toll of blood, <br>Of my friends while being trampled, <br>On the gray hard metalled surface.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I running behind followed her, <br>With the heavy satchel on my back, <br>I had to walk miles six each day, <br>Often bare headed with the legs small.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Illiterate though she was yet me taught, <br>On the way when rested in the shade, <br>“Oh my son! Be respectful to the elders, <br>Be a precedent of gentility for others.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is now in the grave deep, <br>Her words still echoing resound, <br>In the valley of my rocky mind, <br>It is pity, I could not practise behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Muhammad+Shanazar">Muhammad Shanazar</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=464565" data-title="The Heavy Satchel de Muhammad Shanazar" data-description="Often when after the hours of noon, 
We were set free from the school, 
I came out with no addition in the stuff, 
Except scarred, lashed legs and back.

I found my mother awaiting in front, 
Seeing my laming gait she examined, 
The scars on my ba..."></div>
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