In this bustling city when
I lie down on my bed often
I feel someone is calling me
I know who's calling me
I know her very well
I know her main road
I know her by-roads
I know her every house
I know her every thicket
name of her birds
name of her ponds
name of her fishes
name of her trees
name of her flowers
name of her greenfields
I know the boat-house
I know the boating-ways
and the large, blue-sky of hers
name of my boyhood
name of my adolscence
Chachair the green village
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem