Poems ✍️

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PASURAM-12
"Buffaloes yearn for their calves,
While milk from their udders
Flow down wetting the mud
Making it a slushy ground."
"You, the sister of a rich owner
Of those buffaloes, please hear,
The Marghazi Month's fogs
Fall right o'er our heads."
"At the last gate of your house
We keep on standing like this.
We sing for our beloved Rama,
Who destroyed Lanka's Ravana."
"Open the door, why this sleep?
The way we're calling you up
All householders came to know.
Get up and come at least now."