Work is the sweetest dream that
the peasant knows,
because he earns his bread from the
sweat of his brows,
he flourishes the barren farm,
wid the strength of his mighty arm.
he works during the sun and
shower,
to builds his prosperitys tower.
at the mid of the day when sun is
over the head,
he eagerly wait for his bread,
sitting beside the bunch of hay,
he looks towards the zigzag
way...
it is not completed yet but I will complete it aftr some time
thank u.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sometimes, kashif, I start and finish a poem with three dots, ..., to suggest something came before and will come after.