Oh, This scar!
Burnt while cooking,
Or you know that bangle thing,
Got slipped on the oil,
Or No, that's too small, it'll fill.
Modesty at the peak,
Why to be a meek,
Scars, scars and scars!
Once they were blossoming flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem