You, my mind, you are here in desert;
thinks about the charming beauties of our lover in home. What can I do?
The rain forgets its showering. There are
no leaves in trees. Animals are suffering in hungry. There is no water in pond.
Gravel-stones moved scattered during the fight of elephant and tiger, are glittering
in sun light, as fire-flies glittering during night time. This is the route, I am
passing through.
Kites are spreading their wings making
self-shadow. The robbers wearing Uvalai-flowers on head are roaming with their
bow and arrows that will flies making sound as bees are humming in flower. They
robe valuable things from the passers-by. Hence, there will be no merchant-company
passing through the route. Now I am crossing such an ill-route.
Here is some Indian-gooseberries fall
spreading on the ground. The male deer calls its female making loud voice as it
shakes its horn-branches. I am here in such a route.
Being here, you, my mind are thinking the
charming beauties of our lover; smooth vast breast, fragrant hair, and merciful
eyes. What can I do?
 |
| Indian gooseberry |
A poem by: PerunKadunKo, who sung
famous poems on the culture of arid land-track.
The text is belongs to second century
B.C. or earlier.
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