By Subrata Mukherjee
In love with Golapi, Subratagolapi.
The sea of waves is in a song, surging up the hill.
The pebbles in wondering thought rise and flash in their smiles.
Is it a meaningless ballad or the boisterous cradle?
Of the children without their mothers and kin!
Helpless, but happy in their rocking reels.
In the light of the sun, with the love from the moon!
They live in pain and die insane, with tears and cry.
Unseen and unnoticed they all, the children of the earth, yet unknown!