A prize in the middle of two winters
He is looking at me with an internal disorder
I floated in the river Kaliganga
I looked helpless like a dying child.
Many people that day
Short Ashwin's life expectancy
He told me - come up, crowd, shout
This is the war of words on the raft.
I'm in the middle of two winters
In the deep story of Kashful
I only heard the call of my mother
On the other hand, Baba went to the chat room of religious brokers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem