Its the village air
they sniggered
that keeps her strong
that she dares to smile
when she ought to cry
its the ignorance of the village woman
they sneered
that keeps her will
that keeps her intact
when she ought to be bent and broken
its stupid they agreed finally
that now she looks us in the eye
when her son lay broken beaten vegetable like
when her daughter broken beaten struggles to meet the ends
this woman the village woman
uneducated, unkempt, the temple -goer
the mother of imbeciles
should have such a straight spine beat them all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem