Have you ever given it a thought,
as you tread miles of footpaths,
how tender you are,
that the cruel sun of this city
can scorch you?Pushed and pummeled at the bus stop
or in futile chases,
do you ever think of the lively crowd
you just left
and its several adoring eyes?
Does it make you wonder that though you own
a million words,
you can't feed your hunger with them?
Your shelves are lined with borrowed books; this debt
can't please you much. Just think,
how you umst often long for the smallest thing!
Isn't she better off compared to you,
that unlettered girl of your neighbor?
Her nails, a different shade each day;
her trusseau trunk filled with attars.
See, she laughs in her soiled dress!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem