Time seemed to skidd in one place and whirl in one vicious circle:
cleaning pots, baking bread and carrying heavy buckets,
there was no a grain of attractive activity in all days, in all deeds:
neigbouring girls were addicted with chatting, snapping sunflower seeds.
The uncontrolled, unmeasured flood of time she swam in,
she perceived like a trap to be caught in between:
dreaming and realization, planning and self- correction,
crying and wiping tears with own hands and trusting imagination.