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Sakal paele

Sakal paele kana karuchha
Kabita lekhuchen
Dihipahare kana karuchha
Kabita lekhuchen
Raet hele kana karuchha
Kabita lekhuchhen
Tume kabi aae hentahele
Sabu dekhiparsa sabu janiparsa
Tamke juhar bua juhar.

Bhitiria kado parsa tame sabhakari
Kahesa kahiparsa sabhke bhai bhai
Karithisa gharghat aenkari.
Aaichhun paske bua
Tame kabi aae
Aaichun nuakhaira
Sajasaja jugrei
Aaichun tamke mudiamari.

Bhale bhale jau
E aagla bachhar bua
Hasakhusiki auna sabhe sabudhane
Mora balbarta ni thau
Kaharir pase
Matimaa ra jae jae hau
tamar Subhakamna Aamarlake aasu
Aasuthau aasuthau.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Manthara

Ajira Surya bhinna
na janila na thekhila
na bujhila lokaku swapna
swapna au dukha
dukha au shoka
shoka au hahakara.

Tume jana
au tumadei mu jane
ketebele kouthi ki karya.
Mu jane kichhi bi nuhein
ethi akarana
karyakarana bhitare
samparka jodila belaku
pratiti sttanare
rahi rahi jauchhi tumara adachinha
dekhila lokaku dishuchhi
na dekhila lokaku sunya.

tume tebe kana
kana tuma saha mora samparka
hei hei kahu kahu
jauchhi au kuadaku
jie mora kahuchhi
tume tara
jie mora kahucchi tume tathu dura
ascharya a sarata sara sansara.

2

Ate sigra samaya chali jauchi kichi jani heu ni
samanya swana tie bhali sukhila hada khande pai
lobha karuchhi. Sinhaku dekhi bhabuchhi
Mothu chadei nebaku Aasuchhiki?
Ki nirbodhata mote grasuchhi
Mu mora badai karuchhi aau sei
badhaira analare nije dagdha hoichhi.

Jaha kichhi bhabithili, hela kana
Kana bhabithili hela kana
sakara aau nirakaraku kouthi kana
Rakhihela?
Yabade kana rahila?

Mora sara mothiki bahidi Aasiba
Kalpana na thila.
Aau amiti sabu sabu a kasangare hataru

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poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Jarata

1

Anka kasidelabelaku samaste ascharya
emiti phala baharila kemiti
jaha kaunasi sankyare chidunain.
sakala bipadaku taulilabelaku
bhari paduchhi a rajya
khuna jani guna uthuchhi ubuki.
Sara dipahara aaha chu chu karibaku
kie achhi bahara.

Netrutwa neba kana ede sahaja
mati pachi panka gandheilejai phute padma.
Bishada samayare sahi sambhali
rahiparile prakatibe Rama
juadu jemiti pabana bahuchhi
bahuthau chhada nain niti niyama.

Pratiti muhurtare jadi kichhi kichhi sikhuchha tebe jiinchha
samayara aahwana swikara kari aabhijana aarambha kale
hata paantaku aasijiba bijaya.

Bijay!
kahara bijaya?
satyara sindura phatibabele
jie thia hoithiba nischala tahara
kie uchha nischha kie
satrukie kiemitra
bachhabichara kichhi na thiba.

2

kana kemiti karibi mote pachara nain
kemiti udeibi aakasha chutuki phutai
kie kana karibe kemiti karibe
sabu jojana sarichhi
hebaki badalai kara kapala kostthi.
Janma mora bhala lagi
kebe karinain anista chinta kaharahele.
Jaha karichhi a jae sabu para lagi
mothi para aapana bheda e nain.

Samadrustire dekhichhi sabhinki
galikandi buleichhi panira siara kati kati.
Jaichhi jebe sakhinka melare
swapna dekhichhi matira aakashara
Taranakshyaramane olehhi aasichhanti sabhinka munhare
phutiuthichhi hasa.

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poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Sabu Aachhe(Kosli Poem)

Sabu aachhe
E tamar bhitre
Khuji kari paele
janaadba buarpuo.

Tume purthi aae
Kuti kuti purthi aachhe
E tamar bhitre.

Khuja aaru dekha
Kede kede samudar
Aaru aaru kete kana
Tar bhitre aachhe
Tamar lagi.

Tame kenta dakuchha
Pher kahake
Aaru kie asikari
Khujideba kenu
Tumke tume ni khujle.

Muin khujuchhe mate
Dekhuchha ki nain
Khuja tume tumke
Jie jahake paeba aaga
Kaheba karuthila kana
Ni pauthilabele.

English version; -

Everything is here

Everything is within you
If you find these out
You are really the son of your father

You are the world
Crores of worlds are there
Within you

Search out
The seas
And all others
Are there only for you

Why are you calling others
Who is there to come and
Search you out
If you are not searching yourself

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poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Dykker-Klokken

Det var i Aaret — — ak! nu kan jeg Aaret ikke huske;
Men Maanen skinnede ret smukt paa Træer og paa Buske.
Vor Jord er intet Paradiis; som Praas tidt Lykken lyser;
Om Sommeren man har for hedt, om Vinteren man fryser.
At melde i en Elegie, hvor tidt vi her maae græde,
Det nytter jo til ingen Ting, kan ei en Christen glæde.
Det var i Aaret, som De veed, jeg ei kan rigtig huske,
Jeg gik om Aftenen en Tour imellem Krat og Buske;
Det hele Liv stod klart for mig, men jeg var ei fornøiet;
Dog muligt var det Nordens Vind, som fik mig Vand i Øiet.
En Tanke gik, en anden kom, og, for mig kort at fatte,
Tilsidst jeg paa en Kampesteen mig tæt ved Havet satte.
I Ilden er der lidt for hedt, paa Jord, som sagt, man fryser,
Og stige i en Luft-Ballon — — nei! nei! mit Hjerte gyser;
Dog muligt at paa Havets Bund i sikkre Dykker-Klokker
Sit Liv man paa Cothurner gaaer, og ei, som her, paa Sokker.
Saa tænkte jeg, og Reisen blev til næste Dag belavet,
(I Dykker-Klokker, som man veed, kan vandres gjennem Havet).
— Af klart Krystal var Klokken støbt, de Svende frem den trække,
Tilskuere paa Kysten stod, en lang, en broget Række;
Snart var det Hele bragt i Stand, jeg sad saa luunt derinde,
Nu gleed da Snoren, Tridsen peeb, jeg blev saa sær i Sinde, -
For Øiet var det sort, som Nat, og Luften pressed' saare,
Den trykkede som Hjertets Sorg, der lettes ei ved Taare. -
Det var, som Stormens Orgel slog — jeg kan det aldrig glemme!
Som naar i Ørknen en Orkan med Rovdyr blander Stemme.
— Men snart jeg blev til Tingen vant, og dette saae jeg gjerne;
Høit over mig var ravne-sort, det bruste i det Fjerne.
Der Solen stod saa rød og stor, men ei med mindste Straale,
Saa at man uden sværtet Glas „ihr' Hoheit" kunde taale.
Mig syntes Stjerne-Himlen hist i sin Studenter-Kjole
Lig Asken af et brændt Papir, hvor Smaa-Børn gaae af Skole.
— Rundt om mig klarede det op, jeg hørte Fiske bande,
Hver Gang de paa min Klokke løb og stødte deres Pande.
Men Skjæbnen, ak! det slemme Skarn, misundte mig min Glæde,
Og som en Sværd-Fisk var hun nu ved Klokkens Snoer tilstæde,
Og hurtigt gik det: „klip! klip! klip!" rask skar hun Snoren over;
Der sad jeg i min Klokke net, dybt under Havets Vover.
Først blev jeg hed, saa blev jeg kold, saa lidt af begge Dele,
Jeg trøsted' mig; Du kan kun døe, se det er her det Hele.
Men Klokken sank dog ei endnu, den drev paa Havets Strømme,
Jeg lukkede mit Øie til, og lod saa Klokken svømme.
Den foer, ret som med Extra-Post, vist sine tyve Mile,
„Und immer weiter, hop! hop! hop!" foruden Rast og Hvile.
Een Time gik, der gik vel tre, men Døden kom dog ikke,
Saa blev jeg af den Venten kjed, og aabned mine Blikke.
Ak Herreje! ak Herreje! Hvad saae jeg dog paa Bunden!
Den første halve Time jeg som slagen var paa Munden. -
Dybt under mig var Bjerg og Dal med Skove samt med Byer,
Jeg Damer saae spadsere der med store Paraplyer. -

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poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Kena kana (Kosli poem)

Kenke jimi ho aaru karmi kana
e kame paemi kenu kete dam
Khaemi kana aaru rahemi kena
Kie achhe kena ho Kana thik kana bhul
Kahemi kentakari aaru janba kie
Han baluchha ki nein.

Kana heichhe and tume karuchha kana
Kie chhinhichhe kahake
Baigan gachhe phaluchhe bhendi
Kie dekhichhe kanje nachhuche
Pusha kukur kie janichhe aaru nachhuchhe
pahanpahanu ni janikari kichhu.

Bat achhe ken inu
Baharikari palabar kaje
Khujuchhen saj je kahemi
muin achhen a amka kan hauchhu ga
Aaru helebi kana kariparbu ken ketebele.

Where what

Where shall I go
What shall I do
What shall I get from where
Where is my share.

Who is where
Who is there to say
Right and wrong
And how he will say
Who knows yes or noes.

What has happened
What are you doing
Who recognized what
Lady finger is there
In brinjal tree
Who has seen the dance
Who has seen the pet dog
In the early morning.

Where is the path
To go out
I am in search of time
To say O so and so
What are you doing and
What shall you do me
See I am here as before.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Hyderabadi

Hyderabadre karuchha kana
Ki a nela tumaku hyderabad
Hyderabad ku chhadi koithi achha kaha!
Hyderabadre kebala tumaku khojajiba
A katha jamaru nuhen.
Hyderabad tiarithilun ame.

Hyderabadara ghara mandira girja
Masjid sabu ama swapnara aau ame
Swapnare khelithilun holi a sabu upare.
Prasansa kara ki kara ninda aame
Hyderabadku nei lekhujin kabita
Padhibe boli qthare samaste.

Hyderabadi kabitare kana kana rahiba
Kete parimanare lekha hei nain
Kahadwara kebe kouthi.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Tadaka

Samudaya janapad katha bhabibasile
tumara khola hata nirtesha karuchhi mo adaku
sandeha nahi, thik thik kari chaliba puni
ethakara sabu karmakarmani.
Mu pumi athi thia
aithu utari nebaku punu tumaku.. agaku.
Mu jane khanda pajei na rakhile
pasteibaku padiba pare
daha daha ninare luhaku tatei
garama rakhibaku heba natakara sesa jae.
A natakara sesha kouthi
Mu ta kebala gotae dala a natakara
chera jai rahichhi sata samudra bhitare
cheraku na upadibajae
tume kana swastire niswasa mari pariba.

2

Satyaku aaghata karu karu
satyatara pramana paili jetebele
Mati aakasha aaskasa mati
Pabana Aani aalua bhitare
Phenti hoigale surya chandra
Tara graha nashkra jete jouthi dhile
samaste akasangare mu bari hoi padili
Madhyannara andhara Bhali
Kanla surlokara sandhyare tumasamnare!

Kahapain kahara srusti
Mo pain tumara na tu pain mora
Kahara gurutwa kete mapiba kie
kouthire?
Desa jatira hita pain phul thikra
Pharak janiba pain ethiki mora
Aasiba, Aau tumara bi.
Sabu jani bijhi tume murki hasa deuchha
mote dekhi dekhi ki janibe rushi
Tuma mo bhitere chalithiba
a lila khela, a hasa khusi aaharnishi.

Khali gyana khali dyana nuhe jibana
gyana dhyanare karma na misile
nuhen sapurna.
Tenu tume mote padheichha
risimininku kriyasila kareibaku
tenu tum mate padheichha
utha utha kahi debaku rusimuniku
kichhi kara, jouthire satya santira
rakhya heba, Dyan dhara tapasya
Aahuri tibra heba

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poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Tapasya 2

Golapa gachha gala, jau
Apeshkhya kara debi phula.
Tuma hatare thiba golapa
Tume thiba mo pakhare
ubhayanka bhitaraku jauthiba
Golapabasna aau ubhaye aame
Bhokila jaha pain e jai.

Jaana mte chhadi
Thilesina tme hebi mu
Khyatakta taktata aau
Paibi maranantaka pida
Thile sina tume mora
chalithiba ethi emiti krida.

Tume na thile jagiba kemiti gachha
Tume na thile tuma aakhira nianre
Buda akai hebi kemiti rangina
Aau mu rangina na hele
Phutiba nain phula.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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April

'- Frihed, synger Du, April!
med nyfødt Grønt og Sommer-Smiil.'
*
(Strandveien).

En ung Herre (til Hest).
O, April! en deilig Maaned!
En Champagne-Maaned er Du!
Gjennem Snee og Vinterkulde
Du fremsprudler Liv og Varme.
Sommersol og Vinterhagel,
Marken Grøn, og dog lidt Snee!
Mig i Sind og Skind Du ligner,
Som en Draabe ligner Draaben.
Ungdomsglad jeg slynger Armen
Om hver buttet deilig Pige,
Trykker Kys paa Barm og Læbe;
Sværmer nu hos Pleisch og Minni, 1
Siger Vittighed, par Diable!
- Andre Tider Regn og Taage,
Slemme Breve uden Penge;
Creditorer slaae paa Døren. -
Det er nu en Hagelbyge!
Solen skinner! - bort med Griller!
Du April, min egen Maaned!
En Champagne-Maaned er du!

(han jager afsted).
Elskeren (under Træet).
Høit paa Grenen Fuglen gynger;
Hører dog, hvor smukt den synger!
Qviddrer lystigt, hvad den veed,
Synger om min Kjærlighed;

Nævner over tusind' Gange
Hendes Navn i sine Sange.
Hjertet finder atter Ro,
Thi jeg veed, hun er mig tro!
Fuglen.
Vinter-Kulden mig bortskræmmed'.
Bryllup er der nu i Hjemmet;
Bruden var Din Hjertenskjær, -
- Du forstaaer ei Sangen her - !

Elskeren.
Budskab den fra hende bringer,
O, saa saligt , sødt det klinger!
Mig hun seer paa Tankens Strøm
Og i hendes bedste Drøm.
Fuglen.

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poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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Paili kuha

Jaha mo pakhare achhi
Kahibi ta bisayare kichhi
Dekhaibi seita tumaku
Ghanta chakata kari pacharibi
Dekhata rahichhi ki kouthi kichhi aau.

Jaha janichha kahuchha Manoj sahu
Thik na janichha nuhen
Apekhyshare achhi samaya
Kemiti kebe prayoga kariba sesabu
Sabu prani trupta hebe jemiti.

Bijulithu aahuri tibra gatire
Jauthilabele tume mu ethi dekhauchhi pani
Aau patharara khela jouthi phuti jauchhi
Malliphula jete prakarara mati achhi
Se sabura upare.

Bishtadi jaha sabu thila gorubazarare
Ghusuri sapha kalani se sabu
Sua aasi basilani dekha heiti
Palasa gachhadalare nua nua
Kanli uthuthiba patranka bhitare.

Kemiti kahiba aau kemti kahiba aasibaku
Deri karuchhanti surya
Eithi jete jaha achhi hei nia deuchhi
Paiba nischaya sethire sukha
Paili boli khali kaha.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Get Busy

Shake that thing miss kana kana
Shake that thing miss annabella
Shake that thing yan donna donna
Jodi and rebecca
Woman get busy, just shake that booty non-stop
When the beat drops
Just keep swinging it
Get jiggy
Get crunked up
Percolate anything you want to call it
Oscillate you hip and dont take pity
Me want fi see you get live pon the riddim when me ride
And me lyrics a provide electricity
Gal nobody can tell you nuttin
Can you done know your destiny
Yo sexy ladies want par with us
In a the car with us
Them nah war with us
In a the club them want flex with us
To get next to us
Them cah vex with us
From the day me born jah ignite me flame gal a call me name and its me fame
Its all good girl turn me on
til a early morn
Lets get it on
Lets get it on til a early morning
Girl its all good just turn me on
Woman dont sweat it, dont get agitate just gwaan rotate
Can anything you want you know you must get it
From you name a mentuin
Dont ease the tension just run the program gals wan pet it
Just have a good time
Gal free up unu mind caw nobody can dis you man wont let it can
You a the number one gal
Wave you hand
Make them see you wedding band
[chorus]
Yo sexy ladies want par with us
In a the car with us
Them nah war with us
In a the club them want flex with us
To get next to us
Them cah vex with us
From the day me born jah ignite me flame gal a call me name and its me fame
Its all good girl turn me on
til a early morn
Lets get it on
Lets get it on til a early morning
Girl its all good just turn me on
Woman get busy , just shake that booty non-stop

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song performed by Sean Paul
Added by Lucian Velea
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Book Of The Duchesse

THE PROEM

I have gret wonder, be this lighte,
How that I live, for day ne nighte
I may nat slepe wel nigh noght,
I have so many an ydel thoght
Purely for defaute of slepe
That, by my trouthe, I take no kepe
Of no-thing, how hit cometh or goth,
Ne me nis no-thing leef nor loth.
Al is y-liche good to me --
Ioye or sorowe, wherso hyt be --
For I have feling in no-thinge,
But, as it were, a mased thing,
Alway in point to falle a-doun;
For sorwful imaginacioun
Is alway hoolly in my minde.
And wel ye wite, agaynes kynde
Hit were to liven in this wyse;
For nature wolde nat suffyse
To noon erthely creature
Not longe tyme to endure
Withoute slepe, and been in sorwe;
And I ne may, ne night ne morwe,
Slepe; and thus melancolye
And dreed I have for to dye,
Defaute of slepe and hevinesse
Hath sleyn my spirit of quiknesse,
That I have lost al lustihede.
Suche fantasies ben in myn hede
So I not what is best to do.
But men myght axe me, why soo
I may not slepe, and what me is?
But natheles, who aske this
Leseth his asking trewely.
My-selven can not telle why
The sooth; but trewely, as I gesse,
I holde hit be a siknesse
That I have suffred this eight yere,
And yet my bote is never the nere;
For ther is phisicien but oon,
That may me hele; but that is doon.
Passe we over until eft;
That wil not be, moot nede be left;
Our first matere is good to kepe.
So whan I saw I might not slepe,
Til now late, this other night,
Upon my bedde I sat upright
And bad oon reche me a book,
A romaunce, and he hit me took

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poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Secundus

Incipit Liber Tercius

Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis,
Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet.
Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo
Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet.
Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes,
Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit:
Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori,
Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit.

----------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------

If thou the vices lest to knowe,
Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe,
Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde,
That ther nis on upon this grounde,
A vice forein fro the lawe,
Wherof that many a good felawe
Hath be distraght be sodein chance;
And yit to kinde no plesance
It doth, bot wher he most achieveth
His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth,
As he which out of conscience
Is enemy to pacience:
And is be name on of the Sevene,
Which ofte hath set this world unevene,
And cleped is the cruel Ire,
Whos herte is everemore on fyre
To speke amis and to do bothe,
For his servantz ben evere wrothe.
Mi goode fader, tell me this:
What thing is Ire? Sone, it is
That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote,
Which hath hise wordes ay so hote,
That all a mannes pacience
Is fyred of the violence.
For he with him hath evere fyve
Servantz that helpen him to stryve:
The ferst of hem Malencolie
Is cleped, which in compaignie
An hundred times in an houre
Wol as an angri beste loure,
And noman wot the cause why.
Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi:
Hast thou be Malencolien?
Ye, fader, be seint Julien,
Bot I untrewe wordes use,
I mai me noght therof excuse:
And al makth love, wel I wot,

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poem by John Gower
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The Regiment of Princes

Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse
Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,
That othir thyng than fruyt of bittirnesse
Ne yildith naght, as I can undirstonde,
At Chestres In, right faste by the Stronde,
As I lay in my bed upon a nyght,
Thoght me byrefte of sleep the force and might. 1

And many a day and nyght that wikkid hyne
Hadde beforn vexed my poore goost
So grevously that of angwissh and pyne
No rycher man was nowhere in no coost.
This dar I seyn, may no wight make his boost
That he with thoght was bet than I aqweynted,
For to the deeth he wel ny hath me feynted.

Bysyly in my mynde I gan revolve
The welthe unseur of every creature,
How lightly that Fortune it can dissolve
Whan that hir list that it no lenger dure;
And of the brotilnesse of hir nature
My tremblynge herte so greet gastnesse hadde
That my spirites were of my lyf sadde.

Me fil to mynde how that nat longe agoo
Fortunes strook doun thraste estat rial
Into mescheef, and I took heede also
Of many anothir lord that hadde a fal.
In mene estat eek sikirnesse at al
Ne saw I noon, but I sy atte laste
Wher seuretee for to abyde hir caste.

In poore estat shee pighte hir pavyloun
To kevere hir fro the storm of descendynge 2
For shee kneew no lower descencion
Sauf oonly deeth, fro which no wight lyvynge
Deffende him may; and thus in my musynge
I destitut was of joie and good hope,
And to myn ese nothyng cowde I grope.

For right as blyve ran it in my thoght,
Thogh poore I be, yit sumwhat leese I may.
Than deemed I that seurtee wolde noght
With me abyde; it is nat to hir pay
Ther to sojourne as shee descende may.
And thus unsikir of my smal lyflode,
Thoght leide on me ful many an hevy lode.

I thoghte eek, if I into povert creepe,
Than am I entred into sikirnesse;

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poem by Thomas Hoccleve
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Surpanaka

Tumaku kie mora karichhi
tume mora uhanta.
mora sabu chalabaji
dhara padigala tumathi
naka kana katidei
lakhya kala mora gatibidhi.
Anya adhyaya aarambha hela aethu
jetejie thile jouthi matile
agnire jhasa dela pari patanga.

Tume kendrare thai

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Aagla din

Rahemi kenta chhadikari tamke
Bisita laguche samiya
Ni thilabele tame ine.
Mor aink ni parbar dekhi
Aaru kichhu ketebele.
Raet ni sarbar ni sarbar din
Aaru muin hauchhen hapsi kechdei.
Morthanu kenke paleichha bhail tame
Mor e chhuri hebarta sat aai kain.
Kaan thirar lagi muin ni parbar rahi
morta kenta heba tamar
kede kede bepari helena phel ena
Aaru chhadikari palale na surat.
Aaru ken kaje mate deba kie kana
Phulmala aaru muin kahemi hela hela
Thik bujhagala.
Aagla din takichhe mate aaru
Tumke dekhabarkaje aaru ken kenta.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Kalihudi maikina(odia kabita)

Kalihudi maikina pain ghara bhange
Desa bhange samaja bhange
Kalihudi maikinara mana thae kebala
Bhangare gadhare nuhen.

Kalihudi maikinaku duru juhara kara
Kalihidi maikinara jete kanda karakhana
chale taha sabu kahara mangala kama
Kariare nahin.

Kalihidi maikinara kana thae
Thae gotie avisatpta jibana
Taku daya kara tara mangala chita kara
Kalihudi maikinara chetana kemiti aasiba
Tume sabu bhala loka sethipain kama kara
Nahele samajara gotie anga nasta heuchhi
Ame jadi samajika tebe eha sahya kariba kemiti.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Tha e ne (Kosli kabita)

Khet mor ta kudmi muin bunmi muin bija
Sabu karmi muin lata bachha palha rua
Daebar madabar gharke buhibar kam bhi mor.
Mate chhadidele aaru ni na kihe kehensithane
Kenta karmi karmi jenta jena chhadmi heta henu
Aaru ni jaen kahin.
Muin achhen e na aaru e na thibartak heba
Jenta karuthimi heta
Ni kalata heba heta kahebarta kenta alajuk aae.
Achhen muin morthane basuchhen uthuchhen gadhuchhen
Dekhuchhen karuchhen mor kam mor khete
Mor kala kam thanu kenta sikhla tume sikhi ja
Aaru tha e na.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Raha raha

Rakha ho tuma pruthibi tumathi
Mo pruthibire mate rahibaku dia.
Mo pruthibi nahin kouthi
Bruthare tume aethi nasta karuchha
Samaya andali andali andharare.
Aete belaku mu pareikalini
Samasta rasta aau
Tume kahuchha raha raha.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Added by Poetry Lover
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Rakha ho

Rakha ho tuma pruthibi tumathi
Mo pruthibire mate rahibaku dia.
Mo pruthibi nahin kouthi
Bruthare tume aethi nasta karuchha
Samaya andali andali andharare.
Aete belaku mu pareikalini
Samasta rasta aau
Tume kahuchha raha raha.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Added by Poetry Lover
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