Memories of the funeral

In the hands of aunt childhood childhood still call me today. When I was green in blue sari, I wasted fatigue.
When she came to her childhood, she came back to Kanamachi. A friend of mine surrounds me chorus by touching it -
'groaning, clinging to someone who gets pubby'.
I forgot my mind and hugged them looking for them.
If you turn away from the eyes, you are in a bad oasis -
where are you? Do not earn! Together with each other touching again, childhood!

At the beginning of the day of the Sleeping Day, when the
two- fist sandals are on the legs, the eyes of the
tiles in the eyes of the eyes are still looking nigha
On the eve of Tablar, the bee, on the whole,
'kutkut', 'kutkut' , surrounded me on the wall of my empty mind.

Sleeping eyes at noon,
even today, is lost in Dosimine - spicy
, doll wedding, cooking house.
Where do they get colorful lace sari?
Broken jewelry, shoe box decorated!
Alokeshi, the pain of wearing the hand-made doll in the hand, is the same as the pain of marrying a dear friend's bride, even today.

In the courtyard of the afternoon's house, the wall of the house next door stood still in the courtyard.
Red shirt comes back to the red, and the
white fritters are in the back of the banana banerina.
'Ieching biching chichinga tea, butterfly fly'!
Laughing at the warm cup of hot cuffs,
getting back to the warmth of the cup .
I hear the prayer of the church is a beautiful tune of the voice gathered in the tune of music.
'Open Bioscope, Nine Tens Tesco ....'

In the afternoon of the evening, the
light of Goddess lighted by the ceiling of the ceiling , the two of the eyes were crying and crying for childhood .
'Ay gur-la-p'.
Sneezing down the chest, keep two eyes silently on the horizon. Golin painful pain?
Or the timing of time; I do not know! In the vacuum, the color of the memory of the memories of the memories,