These beautiful bracelets of Motia,
This Kagal, this henna,
Glassy bangles and a tray of red-roses,
Beautiful are the green Anchal and scarlet suit,
The same is sound of the mill,
The same is the crowed on the well
Village is the same, same are the rites,
Same are the old faces but bear new looks,
The same tale, the same promises,
The same fraudulent are the oaths,
O! My old well-wisher, it is all right,
But bring me back first the season to write on sand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem