The Daughter Of Riches

Poem By Ishrat Afreen

Imprisoned in the haveli
the stalwart's darling daughter
crushed with fatigue
drained by dissatisfaction
laments the weather
feeling very tetchy.
Laden with the deep oppressiveness
waiting for the rain,
the atmosphere feels close.


Feeling suffocated, the girl
moves the golden silky curtains
a fraction
from the French windows
with a strange wistfulness
Sits quietly
With her face towards the fields
where the girls
chattering
clinking their anklets,
wearing pink and light green scarves
walk around with a swagger
for around their feet diligence has tied anklets.

[Translated by Rukhsana Ahmad]

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read her palm

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now nags,
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I grew
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