In Between The Hills Flows The Small River
B
Bijay Kant Dubey
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Yea, the hilly river,
Flowing smoothly just with a little water
With the stone boulders
As the chunks lying on the bank
Or somewhere on the river course
And the water crossing over
To fall beneath
With a murmur and a flow
And floating by.
When it glistens and hills look blue and sunny,
I mean the sunny light,
Reflecting blue and smoky
And the area away from human haunt,
The tribals into the huts and mud-houses
Lying far flung and scattered
Over the solitary plateau region domain,
Ay, the highland mass.
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