
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.