See him,
When his first wife died she,
Said he that would not
Never again in his life,
But the same man now colouring,
Dyeing
His moustache and beards
And hair,
Blackening or golden browning
To re-marry again,
Leaving his son and daughter
In dust and heat to play like some orphans.
Say you,
How did he forget her so easily,
Didn't he take time to forget
That chapter of life?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem