In sun and shower, <br />Under the golden sunshine <br />And the fair moonlight, <br />Grew she up, <br />A daughter of the hills, <br />In and around, <br />Encircling her. <br /> <br />Cut off from the wide world <br />And gaze of it, <br />Grew she up <br />As a wild flower <br />Unadmired and unappreciated, <br />A girl uninhibited <br />But laden under strictures. <br /> <br />At the herald of spring, <br />Sang you <br />Seeing the cuckoos singing <br />From the leafless <br />But in bloom <br />Palash and simul blossoms. <br /> <br />Sticking a palash bloom <br />Into her hair, <br />Danced she, <br />Sang she <br />Marking the change in season. <br /> <br />Under the shadow of the hills, <br />Grew she up, <br />A daughter of the hills, <br />Half-fed and half-clothed tribal girl, <br />Living a life of her own, <br />Taking boiled ice and its gruel <br />And palm juice and rotten rice beer.<br /><br />Bijay Kant Dubey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-daughter-of-the-hills-a-biography-of-a-santali-girl-the-song-of-the-santal-maiden/
