Kamin Didi is often late to come
for her daily chores in our house.
Under her fleeting feet
she suffered watery woonds
Having walked down a long way
her queer face sweats in weariness
Sitting on the veranda
she leisurely lights a bidi
brand name 'Sudha'
Any my mother gumbles, throws curses
She gets late
in cooking the ten o'clock rice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem