Bhai Phonta, Brother's Paste
B
Bijay Kant Dubey
0
Altın Yaprak
on the eve of the Bhai Phonta,
O brother,
Wherever be you, your sister remembers you,
Feels sad,
You forget not to see her,
Your lone expecting sisiter,
o brother,
Lies she standing by the door
And waiting for your arrival,
With a dish
Full of sweets, lamp-light and God's things,
A red paste to be spotted on the forehead,
A sweetmeat to be put into the mouth,
O brother!
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş