Long ago the Bard said:
what's in a name?
Rose will emit fragrance
in whichever way you call it.
True! But, what about identity -
unmistakably one's own?
I'm a woman, endowed
with all human traits.
Yet I've no name, rather
I'm someone's ‘wife' or ‘daughter';
everything is planned for me
under the cover of a veil.
I want to tear it off,
dismantling the tradition:
a ‘black-headed'
belonging to somebody else,
and reveal my own name -
the elusive identity of my own.
*An Afghan woman seeking
right to identity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Woman in Afghanistan called as wife or daughter of someone.. There is no importance for their own names, very pathetic situation... Thanks for this poem for the rights of woman