The child bride is going
And the twilight falling upon her face,
The small girl as a bride going
With tears into the eyes
To an unknown destination.
Seated on a bullock-cart, on the rear part
Drawn by two white oxen
And covered with a canopy
The bride is going
Crossing the hilly rivulet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem