Mock me if you wish and write me off,
From the pages of your success,
Thinking I do not belong thereof,
Tell me off with your venomous
And tasteless abuses,
Adjudicate; I have pushed luck too far,
You behold only my apparent mischance,
And the ignominy that covers my face,
Wash me off the slate like filth,
Believe, the mirror has displayed
My true image which transmits my odd tale,
And the fiction of curses that ring
And trail every of my step,
Rail and gossip as you wish,
In your sagged skirts bewildered,
Thinking no clouds in me could rain,
And wet the earth and damp the dust,
Of your ill-mannered feet,
But you speak like fools,
And think like demigods,
My future is in your pocket,
And my wretched life
Is hanged on your shoulders,
Every mischance is a new beginning,
I was sold into marriage at puberty,
And into the den of poverty,
To nourish the flower of kindness,
But you think I have flooded my life
Through the gutters and given up
Every string of my dreams,
To the babies I now carry
And to the plight of despondency,
You think I have forsaken my vision
To marauding gossipers like you,
And to the sticks of firewood I sale,
Lo I will bear this toil,
And endure its pain but for a while,
Surely, the sun will not go down on me
And plunged me into its dark horizon,
The flame of my hope will burn till
It reaches its goal at the peak of Sinai,
And rebound to reclaim the lost
Pages of my glory,
