Ganjeri, I often see you smoking ganja,
Going after, searching for
Your odd friends
In the haunted house
Or at a lonely place,
Into the bushes,
You taking ganja
And relaxing.
The ganjaman comes he with ganja
Into his pocket
Or a small carrier
And you purchasing a bit,
Smoking with your odd friends,
Taking the name of Vyom Bhole strangely
And smoking in,
The ganja on the embers
And you smoking from the earthenware pipe
To be an addict, a half-abnormal,
Oblivious of it,
His family and home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem