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- I especially know those who regularly walk over me every day. They do not know that I am waiting for them. I have imagined their images in my mind. For a long time, such a person used to come from far away every afternoon with two of her tender feet - two small nuphars would cry and play at her feet. I understand that his lips - not the lips to speak, I understand that his big eyes - like the evening sky, were staring at his face dimly. Where on the left side of the tied banyan tree a branch of mine had gone towards the locality, there he would stand quietly under the tree. Another one would go to the locality after finishing the day's work and singing songs in his mind. I think he did not look in any direction, did not stand anywhere - maybe he looked at the stars in the sky, went to the door of his house and finished the Eastern song. When he left, the girl would go back the way she had come. When the girl returned, I knew it was getting dark; I could feel the dark chill of the evening all over. Then the call of the twilight crow would cease altogether; The passers-by are no bigger. The bamboo was rustling in the evening air. For so long, so every day, he slowly came, slowly went. One day in the last afternoon of the month of Falgun, when the saffron of a large amramukul is falling in the wind - then another person who came did not come again. That night, the girl returned home. Just as sometimes a dry leaf would fall from a tree, so sometimes a drop or two of tears would fall and mingle on my dull hot dust. Again, the next day in the afternoon, the girl came and stood there on the floor, but no one else came that day either. Again at night he slowly returned home. After going some distance, he could not go. I fell on top of the dust. She covered her face with her arms and started crying. Who is the mother, who comes to take shelter in my bosom on this night. Is the one from whom you came back harder than me? The one you called and didn't answer is dumber than me. Is the one whose mouth you wanted blinder than meThe girl got up, stood, wiped her eyes -- left the path and went into the surrounding woods. Maybe she went back home, maybe she still does the housework every day with a quiet face -- maybe she doesn't tell anyone about any sorrow; Only one day in the evening, he sits with his legs spread in the moonlight in the courtyard of the house, when someone calls him, he immediately gets up and goes home. But from the next day till today I have not felt the touch of his feet.
- How many words have been silenced, can I remember so much. Only the pitiful sound of those feet still sometimes remember! But do I have one more leisure to mourn. Who will mourn for? How much comes, how much goes.
- What a bright sun. Woo-hoo. I am breathing once in a while and the hot dust is flying away turning the blue sky gray. The rich, the poor, the happy, the sad, the old youth, the laughter, the tears, What a bright sun. Woo-hoo. I am breathing once in a while and the hot dust is flying away turning the blue sky gray. The rich, the poor, the happy, the sad, the old youth, the laughter, the tears, th What a bright sun. Woo-hoo. I am breathing once in a while and the hot dust is flying away turning the blue sky gray. The rich, the poor, the happy, the sad, the old youth, the laughter, the tears, th What a bright sun. Woo-hoo. I am breathing once in a while and the hot dust is flying away turning the blue sky gray. The rich, the poor, the happy, the sad, the old youth, the laughter, the tears, th What a bright sun. Woo-hoo. I am breathing once in a while and the hot dust is flying away turning the blue sky gray. The rich, the poor, the happy, the sad, the old youth, the laughter, the tears, ththe birth and death all pass over me in the same breath like a stream of dust. That's why there is no laughter or tears on the way. Home mourns for the past, thinks for the present, hopes for the future. But the path is busy taking hundreds of thousands of new visitors every now and then. In such a place, believing in one's dignity, one is trying to leave one's eternal footprints by stepping very gracefully. The sighs that are lost in the air here, when you are gone, will they fall behind you and mourn for you, bring tears to the eyes of new guests? Is air above air permanent? No no, vain attempt. I don't let anything stop me, neither laughing nor crying. I am only reading.
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