This path is like a thorny Thursday night.
Where does the fragrance of nightingale come from in a lonely sad night.
Clouds are scattered in the sky, I understand it will rain now.
Suddenly the thunderbolts bring back the greenery, the huge banyan tree; The wild ducks too.
In a tin shop in the neighborhood, Hindu Mahasaya,
Sitting on a small cut grinder.
The unemployed boy sighed that nothing would happen in life.
Empty pockets are empty, In the name of life, sorrows become heavy.
Life has taught me the meaning of life.
Patchwork, The shoemaker is annoyed with the old shoes.
All that is a life.
This life is toxic.
You guys who use foreign perfumes, You have houses like huge luxurious palaces.
On a rainy day, how many people get rain inside their chests, You will not understand that.