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
Yet
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
Tr: P. Biprachand
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