O, woman, where does your power lie?
Is it in every battle you've painfully won?
Or it is in the battles you've smartly given up?
When does your beauty really show?
Is it when your hari flows in the air like ocean?
Or is it when you smile in the gentle
assurance that you are who you are?
When are you truely free?
Is it under unrestricted frenzy?
Or is it when you are weighed down
by options and complexities?
When do you become a woman?
Is it a coming of age ritual?
A gut feel? Does it happen in a dream?
Or is it when you've proudly known
who you truely are - your happiness,
your passion, your love, your fulfillment,
your freedom, your definition of a true woman?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very interesting thoughts as well as the way you have put them.