I have one,
Good or bad,
But he has three bibis,
Marrying and divorcing.
Had I
My bibis like him,
One not, but more than,
Looking ravishingly beautiful,
Joy would have been mine.
Lo, I going
Not with one, but three,
Three patnia, bibiya,
I mean three wives!
People asking,
Who are they,
I saying,
My sisters-in-law
And the youngest one
As my beloved wife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem