The wounds that fill the gap with dried lips and slit skin, as dark as ashes flying in the thin air,

An "untouchable" rises from the pollution he is believed to be born from,

At night, when others sleep,

He wanders with broom tied behind his bony back,

Clapping hands,

Thump- thump

To let the "clean" know that "an untouchable" has entered so close your eyes,

The indispensable notion of being "impure"

Echoes, louder and louder in the bleeding ears of the "untouchable" that he's gone deaf,

He starts fearing his own shadow,

that falls on the land of where an

"Upper caste" walks on.