Paddyfield Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

To where the red soil road loses itself to the sky
she walks in dusted heels

One after other rising and falling the harvests die
can't wilt her wills.

To where the red soil road loses itself to the sky
she plucks corn in the forlorn noon

Sickle in hand her wishes fly
her dreams won't die soon.

To where the red soil road loses itself to the sky
she rues not her fate

She pauses to look up to the heaven high
hopeful in her emerald wait!