In Memory
March 12, 2021
The green village
The colored city
And the ever familiar locality;
Each path, tree, house, turn
Each native I have left behind
But creepers, hedges entangle
With my leg and hand
The green crops fields
The green hills
And the fruit trees, call me back
From where I have come
I'm owe to which much, in fact.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem