At the hour of golden rays of dying Sun,
fusing with symphonies of returning birds
inhaling poisoned air with fading flowers,
she walks on crowded street with eagle eyes.
In roar of rolling cart wheels on dusty roads
to the beat of Kottu maker's iron blades,
And the winding words of dreams of lottery huts
composing a song for satanic move of hips,
she walks on crowded street with eagle eyes.
Awaiting comfort with few rupees earned of sweat
heaven's smoke with half open eyes, visualises
fantasies blend with mounting moon, heightens
when waving silhouette appears though darkness
On the rickety cart exhausted of days work
sighs n’ mourns set flying flames of desire
where hard-earned rupees burn in wildlife.
and when hungry infant’s cry goes unheard
and the mat under tin roof weeps wretched,
before partly opened eyes fully open surprised,
She walks out on crowded street with eagle eyes
for the next hunt, on a cart, in a dark alleyway.
every night, all night, till her youth is fully away.