|
A starry night.
A winding path.
A crooked stick.
A deep river.
A shallow well.
A wet day.
A cold breeze.
A rusty knife.
A smoky fire.
A thatched house.
A cruel master,
A kind mistress.
A red flower. A white stone. A copper nose-ring. An iron anklet. A long
rope. A desolate place. A beautiful flower. We did not give up hope until
she was dead. When she ceased breathing, we left her dead body, and collecting
outside her house, we wept long and bitterly. The children will play.
The boys will put garlands around their necks.
The sun will shine in the afternoon.
You will become old.
|
The Last Mughul Bahadur Shah II in exile, 1858
|