Once I sold my gold for my sister to wed.
I had a pride on it.
Now when my mother has given her hers
I am piqued by it.
My sister and I are liberated from the identity.
At my mother’s age I may emulate her.
How will be my son for his sister?
27.04.2001, Pmdi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem