Behind her long usual counter
She sat immersed in her well-ordered loaves,
As brown as her face,
Well-baked like her fate.
She caressed her head twice
And felt her white silk scarf
Tightly and firmly tied.
It was there,
For long it had been there,
The white silk scarf!
The white silk scarf!
Meant a bait for a man,
A mesh of snow on a peak of a mountain.
But what a fate!
The curse of waiting is still flowing
The joy of a union is never growing.
Like a yellow dry flower,
She saw herself in a mirror,
A vulture with a few hairs,
A ghost swathed in silk rags.
With a confused, blurred vision,
She tried to take her life decision,
Tore the scarf into pieces,
And broke into endless tears.
Suddenly broad loud questions
Crossed the mirror’s surface:
“How can I dare to scratch my dad’s face?
How can I dare to break my mum’s peace?”
The subsequent harm of her act
Was reflected on the mirror.
She put on a new scarf on her thoughts
And hoped impatiently for the best.
She sat immersed in her well-ordered loaves,
As brown as her face,
Well-baked like her fate.
She caressed her head twice
And felt her white silk scarf
Tightly and firmly tied.
It was there,
For long it had been there,
The white silk scarf!
The white silk scarf!
Meant a bait for a man,
A mesh of snow on a peak of a mountain.
But what a fate!
The curse of waiting is still flowing
The joy of a union is never growing.
Like a yellow dry flower,
She saw herself in a mirror,
A vulture with a few hairs,
A ghost swathed in silk rags.
With a confused, blurred vision,
She tried to take her life decision,
Tore the scarf into pieces,
And broke into endless tears.
Suddenly broad loud questions
Crossed the mirror’s surface:
“How can I dare to scratch my dad’s face?
How can I dare to break my mum’s peace?”
The subsequent harm of her act
Was reflected on the mirror.
She put on a new scarf on her thoughts
And hoped impatiently for the best.
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