This my edge-of-heart utterance
To this tree she is as I am, a branch
Trying by all means not to be barren
From birds she has to be hidden
To them infectious and savage flies
She has to swing
For water and sunlight
She has to be primed
Frail in her is a tooth of a hen
Not that I’m surprise
Because that is what is her
“Can’t be able” to her
It’s like agreeing to be slaughtered
I, why even bother
Because it’s like father like daughter
Optimist and opportunist is her game, always
In present of her “buts” and “cant’s” are all away
Pondering is you,
Why I’m fluttering someone
Then you have to live broadly again somehow
Because she is a big daughter of my father
Let alone her manoeuvre which I call hustler
To: KUNU
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem