A shrimp pond ahead. Then a carpeted road.
By the roadside mango-jamun-sal
and coconut trees in line
All these trees, a long time ago, our old grandpa planted
He talks to trees as his offspring. 'Father, ' softly they call him.
'Uncle, ' so I call them whenever I see a chance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem