The Painful Desires of An Unborn Girl Child

O mother! if I were a flower bud I’d bloom before the first appearance of light in the morning sky. If I were a morning bird I’d fly high before the hunter wakes up. If I were a snail I’d hide myself into the shell, O mother! before the stork bird pecks my soft body. If I were my own creator I’d cut off my hand immediately Before the completion of the shape. Oh, if I were Death myself I’d never die for the second time. O mother! I want to taste the world. I want to feel what I am. O, let me live Let me live, O mother!