It's not one of the balmiest days
The tropical, bright and the silvery Sun burnt her skin
But near the bus stop before a motley crowd
Displaying her acrobatic skills
She tossed her body - up and down……
Shabbily dressed in a rented attire,
With painted red cheeks, inquisitive eyes,
Oblivious of ecstasy of her tender age
Shackled hard in the chains of servitude
'Flexed her body across unkind iron rings many times
Blinded in to the cause of the family - deep in penury
With little time to reflect on her childhood
She carries on with the unkind job
Unaware of her constitutional rights
While the enlightened congregation pretend ignorance?
Tired & shy post the show, she gazes at the crowd,
With a pouring heart, her innocent eyes peep wide
Recalling yesterdays' moments of perch in mother's lap
Recollecting the reckless playtime joys
She searches for those priceless moments
With a broken bowl, the master pushes her to the gathered crowd
Muttering the imbibed rhyme, she pleads for offerings
Unkind to her cause, some gave one, some two, while some none
But none bother to retrieve her time and living – really good
Tender moments of babyhood, her lost childhood ……
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem