by Rabindranath Tagore
If I were only a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear, would you say “No” to me if I tried to eat from your dish?
Would you drive me off, saying to me, “Get away, you naughty little puppy?”
Then go, mother, go! I will never come to you when you call me, and never let you feed me any more.
If I were only a little green parrot, and not your baby, mother dear, would you keep me chained lest I should fly away?
Would you shake your finger at me and say, “What an ungrateful wretch of a bird! It is gnawing at its chain day and night?”
Then, go, mother, go! I will run away into the woods; I will never let you take me in your arms again.