Swimming across a river-edge,
a tiger came to a village;
a burning fire-bright tiger;
whichever house he visit
they offer him stool to sit.
Once a poor farmer made him plough his field,
a helpless old man made him carry his load.
He is in good terms with the sad harlot
who lives in the margin of the village.
He tried to preach no religion,
he died also like the typically worthless folks!
(Translated from Bangla by Raihan Sharif)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.