The Widow Wails Poem by MOLOY BHATTACHARYA

No more ambition, no more ripple
My life is, is a fallen kite.
I descend from sky snapping ties
and here people laugh and scorn
at my fragile existence.

I have on friend, no company
My life is, is a fallen kite.
Oh! where is my prince of dream
I desire to dedicate myself to you.

Here I stand like a shadow
to the withered leaves
and a mirror of my tears
that compose my dirge.

This is my appearance,
this is my colour,
the cruel destiny
of a ostracized widow,
my life is, is a fallen kite.