are you aware
from what I appear
as a mortal mere
that I feel scared.
when I’m glared
leered ‘n’ jeered
I wish to tear
the mask I wear.
my fears bared
my cries aired
my face smeared
I lay impaired.
when death stared
I compared
the dreams I dared
and how I fared.
it was clear
I didn’t prepare
as a player
for a game unfair.
isn’t it queer
those who swear
to revere
the Sita fair
drag her by hair.
turn her slayers
in the square
leave her there
to despair.
you in full gear
with busy affairs
didn’t care
to share
my nightmare.
now can you spare
a small prayer
that can repair
my memories rare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem