Homecoming was fun, awesome
But now so tiring and worrisome
In the year when trees made music.
Radiating the grandeur of glorious heaven.
And the world began in my father's yard
Now the old man is an expectant
Boast of his sweat and gains
Now life had traveled back to town
And the place of solace, turn boredom
The farms are outgrown by spear grasses
These few years of my treasure hunt.
Joy of communal call faints and died
Not as the very youthful days
When the strong feet of mum and dad
Were still planted on this earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem