If for the rigours they undergo
From that monthly messy thing
In trying to become complete women
If for the ceaseless nightmares
And the distress of day-dreams
From the problem of vacillation
In trying to make a good choice
If for the feeling of lethargy
Moving around tiredly with heavy load
For days, weeks and many months
While carrying such hefty load
If just for that unforgettable day
When no conjurer could boast of saving her
As she bestrides the threshold of heaven and earth
In trying to deliver what’s in her womb
If because of those sleepless nights
Singing and dancing around with no beats
To lull the infantile flesh to sleep
And periods of self suffering days
To breed the zero figure to a hero
Even if for these and nothing more
A woman is made a goddess
For men to sometimes worship and praise
Men shall by no means be erroneous
But if for these above
Women puff up to know no morals
With which to claim her praises
Then such shall be her portion
And her portion shall serve her right
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem