Gedicht
Popati Hiranandani
A Homeless Sindhi Woman
In Akbar the Great’s durbar,
Anarkali, Queen of Beauty, reigned.
Yet
even she was buried alive.
Delhi, India’s pride, and I,
inheritor of the marvels of Indus architecture.
Yet
even I have been buried alive
homeless in history’s graveyard.
© Translation: 1998, Anju Makhija and Menka Shivdasani, with Arjan Shad
From: Freedom and Fissures: An Anthology of Sindhi Partition Poetry
Publisher: Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi, 1998
From: Freedom and Fissures: An Anthology of Sindhi Partition Poetry
Publisher: Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi, 1998
A HOMELESS SINDHI WOMAN
© 1988, Popati Hiranandani
From: Man Sindhin
Publisher: Lok-Sur, Mumbai
From: Man Sindhin
Publisher: Lok-Sur, Mumbai
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A HOMELESS SINDHI WOMAN
From: Man Sindhin
A Homeless Sindhi Woman
In Akbar the Great’s durbar,
Anarkali, Queen of Beauty, reigned.
Yet
even she was buried alive.
Delhi, India’s pride, and I,
inheritor of the marvels of Indus architecture.
Yet
even I have been buried alive
homeless in history’s graveyard.
© 1998, Anju Makhija and Menka Shivdasani, with Arjan Shad
From: Freedom and Fissures: An Anthology of Sindhi Partition Poetry
Publisher: 1998, Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi
From: Freedom and Fissures: An Anthology of Sindhi Partition Poetry
Publisher: 1998, Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi
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