Her dreamt-bungalow
Is her caravan
Loaded with a tiny thousand count
Just stringing routine
On to her phonetical 'lee pooyee'
(Malli poo, Jasmine) ...
She decks up fragrant
Crowned herself the queen
With her little three princesses
Of her dream-bungalow
I bargain up to her resentment
Against the hiked price
Hers is ten rupees, mine is five
Per hundred counts two
Or three rupees only townside
Grumbling her tone shrieks
On her vain profit unfit her dream
My final compromise anyway
Five rupees...
And home-grown mangoes some
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem