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.