Our small houses are small houses
I do not see anybody together after this.
All the boys in the neighborhood are Morah Bhai brothers
Play together and go to the lessons.
I do not hate and fight,
Father and Mother
Like our mother in our small village,
Life is saved by air with light.
Groundwater rice and jalvara dighi,
The twinkle of the moon shines
Mango trees, bamboo buns,
They are mixed together they become relatives.
In the morning, Sonar Ravi stood in the east
Birds call, air boy, flowers blossom...
Great pictures and poem to match
really nice photo.