She did not whine. It was not her kind.
She moaned and I was at loss; just that
Time, she pleaded for help.
She lied on the ground
The rough ground near
Recently erected home
House to Reza and wife
And in fact nasty he was
Nasty and talked of wife
She gave birth to a child
So her breast turned soft
“I’d rather the two Virgin
Sisters; with breasts hard
So I’ll give up my wife.”
And I was very young…
She, my protector of hard
Days, and hardship of the
Schooldays, in both ways
Was in pain, deep in pain
It was my turn…that was
My time to protect…
From home, in my hand
A sharp knife I returned
Reading those amber eyes,
Looking weak; very meek
“Help me please.” A plead
Seemed to me…
I broke her water. Sharp knife did the work. Her poppies all came out.
We sighed in Relief…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think YOU WANT 'puppies', Not ' poppies'! Thanks for Poet's Notes. Bri :)
Thank you very much...even more thanks for correcting the mistake.