When I was innocence – compiled once,
my granny and me crossed some street
At the corner of which, my heart skipped a beat
pink and purple, orange and crimson…
Come take them home, for the “Brides of this Autumn”
these bangles are the framed glasses that shimmer
I caught the hem of my nani’s pheran
nani here… Here.. Just.. Just here
the crimson ones I claimed in a childish lore
She shook her head… No no Maru not this
they shall break and hurt your baby flesh
I cried, I wept, I sobbed to that “No”
No my love she said, not this for now…
The bangle seller for sure kind at heart
said little girls don’t wear glasses of colour
they can’t endure them for a safe harbour
My nani rocked me in her arms
“I shall buy them some another time”
Of which she lied nevertheless,
another time never arrives!
Yesterday, she accidently crossed my path
take these bangles… They are framed but glass
I was no more a little girl with big eyes
and my nani too was long gone …Alas!
There they were, the colourful remnants of my past,
the childhood that never survived!
No thanks! I don’t wear these pieces of glass
they break and hurt us, our flesh!
Take them for you are the “Bride of tomorrow”
keep them locked until your wedding Autumn…
No masi! I wont ever need them…
I can’t endure them for a safe harbour
They are but tender “glasses of colour”
Why have them when they shall break,
and you can’t glue them back together?!