Pathshala
B
Bijay Kant Dubey
0
Altın Yaprak
A small girl
In a loose and olden frock
With the slate and the lime stick pencil
That too half broken
Going to the pathshala
Held under the tree shade
Of the hamlet
With a tattered jute knapsack
Into the small hands of hers
To sit on the bare earth
Without having taken breakfast,
Just stale food
Left after the night-time meal
To sustain in and to read.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş