Woman, the goddess
is burnt in ashes of dowry
for her sinlessness.
Woman, a precious gift
of Almighty, God is crushed
under the feet of man.
Don’t trample the rose
Resting on her fragrant cheeks.
God’s pure gift to man.
Vultures pounce upon her
toying with her like a prey
in the field of ills.
Streams of tears are shed.
Virtue has melted in air.
A gift of modernism.
There is dark chamber.
sounds of sobbing come through it.
A woman is there.
Save thyself from snare
laid by so called gentlemen.
She needs your due respect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem