I rise up early
I work like a horse
I attend all chores
I behave better
Then why is it the man always?
People shy off in praising me in a midst of other men
Thinking, Oh! What will others think if I a praise a lady
Fear of gossip always mounts them
Their counterparts, they seldom forget
Are they not seeing my efforts?
Then why is it the man always?
I try to be strong
Shows there is nothing wrong
But my heart longs to be one among them
Rebel in me tries to unshackle
My heart says, behave your self
And it's always the heart that wins
And it's always the man
I remind myself, I am what I make
No one can define me, but my self
No one can shun me, but my self
The aroma of flowers cannot be hidden
After the darkness, its always sunshine
I will walk on this thorn laden way
For if I stop... It cannot be me any time
And it will always be the man
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem