The birds sings sadly
Now it is the time of harvesting season
But paddy field is empty
No seeds, no farming
The fields are kept empty
We are idled and hungry
And leaving the place with our curse
The cycle of existence is in danger
What we can do for our livelihood
We are flying away
Seeking a new destination
For ever, not to be returned
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Truly, an agricultural activity sustains lives of many