Playing upon his teeth in cold
I met a man indeed in need
Upon my cheeks hot drops rolled
To aid him my heart paid heed
I took the man to mart
Of cotton, wool and fur
Five rupees for the horse-cart
With honour bade, bye sir!
When on my bed I lie
That man came with glow
'Happy is, boy! , God with thee
Blessing me he whispered slow.
My soul now hunts the sight
Stupendous, divine, source of joy
My eyes long to view the light
And pay thanks to grace alloy'
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem