I built my life with muddy bricks and a tin sheet for the roof,
My history teacher suggests the name; poverty
But it's weather-beaten knows everybody.
Am I heavy to carry on your soft wings?
If you prefer I could have join your pilgrimage
Leaving all my burdens aside
I was carrying since my childhood.
I see the outer world through my little window, nothing; but gloomy.
Only I hear the secret murmur of the souls.
Red ants on the window sill very busy and I heard a butterfly's crying.
I love the last line of this poem, (Red ants on the window sill very busy and I heard a butterfly's crying) . Oh the sweet sounds of nature. Excellent poem Nimal--Thankyou--Melvina
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Butterflies have so little time before they fly away. And yet Tagore tells us that they have time enough. Beautiful poem, Nimal. Always your friend, Sandra