The daughters of India are migrating birds
As brides, they fly with the bride grooms
To far off places of different weathers
And come back to their homes in only festive seasons
We are worried about their wounded pride
Their separation we can no longer hide
As parents we have to bear the emotional tide
We console ourselves they are at their soul mate’s side
Only parents understand the real suffering
Their offspring becomes a distant bird in spring
We don’t know what happens to them in autumn
Their health the cold weather may weaken
Why can’t they stay with mother and father?
I think the Hindu custom is very cruel rather
No sister or brother likes to forego their sibling
The soul mate may be a great king
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem