to hell to tell the story of birds on one day ,
I do not know if there is a loan to the
world and I can not return to people's sigh.
Sometimes at the end of a winter, the leaves will be
disintegrated in the branches of a tree
when the new leaves will grow, in the heart of the hill,
I will also walk on the day of Phagun, the
Madhumati river.
Life is beyond the reach of life
, you are there;
Touch the fingers of the finger
,
there is no face on the wall of the finger feeling , but no one is burdened or not understood like
dew,
soft like fog .