I came out of this citadel,
Crying and avoiding that ultrasound,
But there a whispering voice 'a girl',
What I think 'a girl' that low-pitched sound....
My mind focused on that sound,
Now I three years young girl,
A jovial voice came as I heard,
'A boy' then why I am a girl....
Everyone lifting my brother in his lap,
Now I am six years young girl,
Sitting in first row pondering over,
Quote- Fraility thy name woman....
Nurturing my brother well enough,
Now I am sixteen years young girl,
Ready enough to bear eve-teasing,
And to put up with so-called weakness....
Looking herd of boys, Zips opened,
Turned around to saturate their lust,
What I think, a girl alone, let it go,
What bad in offering until live survive....
Remembering that whispered sound,
Now penetrated what that word mean,
Well, justice prevailed, they're hanged,
But my life, oh, it still goes,
To bear my well captured ride,
Now I twenty five years young bride,
Capable enough to bear his intoxicated stride,
My life still goes in false pride,
Until that kerosene bottle soaked me to suicide.......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem