Ajji, dear Ajji, when I think
I want to be all that is fine, that is true.
All that is worthy, noble and grand
has come from you, from
your guiding hand.
I’ll miss your scolding’s about my
wild hair and short skrits,
but most of all I’ll miss-
your neat greyish-silver braids,
that lightened up your recently cutesy,
always smiling, always wrinkled,
always cheerful face.