Jab main apni 12 saal ki beti ko
school k pehlay dance k liyay cHoD aayee
to main ne us k baDtay baDtay mammon
ki taraf dekhna na chahti thee
main hairani aur shuk se bhari hue thee.
main ye sochna na chahti thee
k ek jawaan laDke ki jigyasa se
kahin vo gym ki paseeni dewar
aur us laDke ke beech kahin
masali na jaaey. main ye na dekhna
chaahti thee k kahin meri beti
us bachay-aadmi se sur ya be-sur
taal main kahin rugraDee na jaey.
meri beti ke kanoN main us ne ye fusfasaya tha:
"tum Brooklyn main sub se zyada
khoobsoorat laDki ho. Uska dagmaga chalna
itna mukhalis k vo usko galti se
kahin ek devta na samaj baithi ho.
***
Inevitable
Mahogany L. Browne
when I dropped my 12-year-old off at her first
homecoming dance, I tried not to look
her newly-developed breasts, all surprise and alert
in their uncertainty. I tried not to imagine her
mashed between a young man's curiousness
and the gym's sweaty wall. I tried not picture
her grinding off beat/on time to the rhythm
of a dark manchild; the one who whispered
"you are the most beautiful girl in brooklyn"
his swag so sincere, she'd easily mistaken him for a god.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem