Pleas of Himal
नदिया पार, तेरे ख़ातिर आऊं क्या मैं सजना? O' re Ganga Maiya, Shall I come, Or shall I go? O' re Ganga Maiya, I haven't seen much, This big world of yours, But I know— The old man no longer rushes, After his lugai died, for him time has become a nuch. From the river of yours, Maiya fills the pot; talking shit about their man, Her sahiliyas laugh—walking with the pots on their head, holding his amma's fingers, Bablu counts—one, two, three, and four... O' re Ganga Maiya, Here sings the danfe and munal ; only through them, songs I've learned Between the hills, through the jungle, to the woods, barefoot, I still run I would miss them— Bayer and Kafal , laligurans in the hills, Springs here are warm, and kind, winter's breeze gives me the chills If I leave them all behind, how would that make them feel? O' re Ganga Maiya, You tell me, how would that make me feel? O' re Ganga Maiya, This world of yours, This body has to follow where the heart leads. ...
