Weeping Of A Dalit Girl Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

I was born in a hut,
Slept on the floor,
Lived under poverty and scarcity,
Poor resources
With nothing to eat, nothing to sleep,
Slept I on the muddy floor on a date-tree leaf mat
Without the pillow and the bed,
The rags were enough for me,
Lived on stale food that too was unavailable,
Juthan served my purpose
And when I grew young,
I was married off to another poor man
Who turned out to be a drunkard and a gambler
So unmindful of me
Taking another woman as for his lady,
Finally dislodging me for.