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Rain and Rice

Echoes of loss and longing

By Rohitha LankaPublished about a year ago • 1 min read

If the rain is like this, how will the rice field be polluted?

If a farmer is a friend who can be called a friend,

I barely cover the flowers with my feet,

Pandarama is straight, the prince is a hairy man,

If I could see the tattoo, I would be alone.

Having become a monk, either in a gay village.

The tattoo is artistic, carved on a rock.

The water will wash it away, white girl.

Even if it is a moon, its shape will be covered a little.

When the sky is occasionally visible,

When the dead are in the sky,

Why was the red belt punished like this?

Who does not want to cross the mountains that are scattered on the ground?

Even if it is a stone, it will shake when you walk.

I can see the shape of the dancing buttocks in its appearance.

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Rohitha Lanka

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    Written by Rohitha Lanka