The black trouseau with its silvery sparkles
Inspires me to roll on.
But ho, i can't touch it.
A luminous silver coin charms me
Happily to use it.
But ho, i can't touch it.
A painted yellow plume with smudgy rouge
Ashed around desires me.
But ho, i can't touch it.
Dip dip, says a saphire stream
For me to feel replenished.
But ho, i can't touch it.
A glassy white spread burns me to blister.
I want to remove it.
But ho, i can't touch it.
Now this rain seeks to connect me
With those sky-clad scenarios.
But ho, they've bid me bye, bye.
Ho ho, untouchable welkin ever so, ever so.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Untouchability is a social problem, though a lot of work has been done, still it has not been removed completely from the society. The silent and untold message of the poetess I listened to. A great poem, a graet message.
Thank you very much Akhtar....God bless you