How long long has been this task of digging
the surface sod of this hillside
keeping on ceaselessly.
The shaky grains of rubic-stones
holding on hedge wall's brims;
Though, there it's place, slips away soon
Flown off away in rainy streams.
The mud furrow tendered by tilling hard
is no more seen and the crop also flows;
The hut wall too gets soaked and gone,
The saplings that chopped to make stakes,
Rubic -stones shows off.
The spade that was tampered at
the blacksmith's lathe
Falls hard now and again...
The 'waste-task' my grandpa and father had done,
I too, the son continue.
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