Monday, 4 February 2013



                                      Holding the window-bars
                                      Watches the path of the night.

                                      The sky is shedding tears
                                      Lightning winks at her.

                                      Pink-coloured dresses
                                      adorns her body embedded with lust.

                                      Rain-infested wind
                                      makes her dark hair dance.

                                      Footsteps are being heard
                                      Hunters are coming
                                      Not Abhisar.

                                      Her appetite for love
                                      Shall not be satisfied she knows
                                      the door shall be  opened
                                      her body shall be preyed upon
                                      In favour  of a single meal.

                                       By following them trustfully
                                      She once arrived here
                                      Longing for a job
                                      Which she’s been offered now
                                      Here in this foreign land
                                      a high-status job
                                      rendering her service to the people
                                      to make them gratified
                                      winning the title of a prostitute.

                                      Wiping her own face
                                      With her tender hand
                                      She goes to the door
                                      to receive the guest
                                      of one night.
                                                         Tr: P. Biprachand

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