Always in the crab like prison,
But as tall as banyan,
As majestic as Lord Krishna’s….form,
But her bright face concealed in a purdha, dark.
Yet her magical face glows like stars,
Embroidered with lines and words,
To tell the world tales and verses of her pain,
But a future magic hidden in her dark womb,
Leaping out through her cozy thighs,
Touch of her soft fingers,
Vibrating a new awakening,
A mind as pure and bright as glass,
But we torment her, toss her, tear her,
Where this hurt daughter complain,
When sacred hand of Allah has thrown her to wolves.
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very expressive, I liked most the last line When sacred hand of Allah has thrown her to wolves.