I understand that I cannot run like a horse
And that would be much appreciated
Merits for you Sir!
My rickety stable is much safer than the racecourse.
But I have a small question,
Why in my peaceful dreams
They try to pierce my bare feet
And wear the horseshoes?
*[ When I come home after work she goes out for struggle and when she comes back I go out again, the old ragged station Master who knows about our complicated schedule and he sees us everyday with his dim lantern.
These two shuttle service trains are wearied now and when we go for shunting? ]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem