In My Village, Far From The City Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

From the roof of my house I
Watch the vast stretch of land
With hillocks, streams, huts, ponds
Some look colorful, some a little bland

Cows grazing, farmers tilling
Children running and shouting
Birds hopping and flying, fresh buds
Swinging in wind and gently nodding

I watch the womenfolk walking
Down to the river in knotty batches
Freshly washed earth is nicely draped
In a canvas of green and gray patches

Men singing song of rain making
Furrows and sowing in leisurely paces
Nubile lasses playing in water washing
Bodies and drying their luxurious tresses

I get lost in the magic of my land
That before me gets slowly unfold
The happiness of the poor folks in this
City I can't buy even with tons of gold

Wish burden of work is not there
To my den in city I should not return
In this holy land of simple and honest
Souls I will be glad to die where I was born