
Farmer
I walk to the cropping field every day
Its grasses, creepers, crops, and clay-land are my dear ones.
It smells fragrant in my breathing,
I walk to the cropping field every day
Its grasses, creepers, crops, and clay-land are my dear ones.
It smells fragrant in my breathing,
A poem depicting the strength of unity to overcome the tragedies and existential crises of the poor like Garibullah.
It attests to the duplicity of the men of a particular community who, after getting established, forget their past.