A Sad Song
G Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
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The birds sings sadly
Now it is the time of harvesting season
But paddy field is empty
No seeds, no farming
The fields are kept empty
We are idled and hungry
And leaving the place with our curse
The cycle of existence is in danger
What we can do for our livelihood
We are flying away
Seeking a new destination
For ever, not to be returned
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş