Stench, that odor, flaring up my nostrils
Suffocating, poisoning my inside parts.
What rotten flesh, what burnt-down body
Could emit such a smell, I wonder which.
The pungent odor refuses to leave
Chicken left too long to simmer, broken eggs.
Vegetables left to be scavenged by rats
Those rats consumed in the evening broth.
The bride set to fire, warm kerosene
The bride now sits here, emitting fumes.
She'll live with the stench throughout her life
What life is this devoid of beauty.
Forget beauty, no greeting flowery scent
That scent lost, doused by pure flames.
Those flames have now reduced to soot
The poor soul, she sits there mute.
I wonder what travesty occurred
It claimed her tender, child-like skin.
I wonder what drove her, or any other
To play with fire and dance with it.
Maybe she lit the final flame
Vengeance took over, maybe she sinned.
Or maybe the classic case, the ill of dowry
Nothing to give, nothing to gift.
The men in fading pinstripes, jeer and cheer
While I sit tight, pretend to forget.
I ramble on, I wouldn't know a thing
Except the morbid, dead, pungent stench.
