Out of poverty, in spite of beauty,
She married a Lord, two decades elder,
And went a widow when she was forty.
Her looks groomed in wealth stood pretty.
Not at par with him, she was not at ease.
Her son too like him, an unfit mother
She felt for herself in the family.
Her husband exit gave hope for her exit.
There were many claimants for remarriage.
She chose the one humble in her village
And fell in love to find anew her love
So that soon she would get rid of her home.
It was not to be in the form of her son,
Who by then was a lad on rank and file.
Mother's re marriage was a disgrace to him.
She withered and died in his custody.
12.09.2014
[Based on a story of Thomas Hardy]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem