I see her struggling all daylong,
A poor Dalit woman,
Working in her home,
Working in the master's house,
Living under a thatched roof,
Sleeping on the floor
Without food
Just living on stale food and left-overs,
A Dalit woman
She has the goats and sheep to attend to
And the pigs tied near her house,
The husband a drunkard
And the children too poorly
Drinking tears from the eyes falling.
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