A lunatic, as he said to him,
Passes me a greet...
I was at cloud nine to see this fellow,
On my life again, was that an omen or bellow...
Still shared the rosy and rainy days' talks...
Those trails where we used to walk...
Happened to unveil the true colours...
Like a bee trapped in those Pitchers...
Hey, he is my old friend in a new scenario.
No, he isn't in Japan or Rio-De-Janerio!
He is from the land of hills and tillage...
Passing his time in The Barrack's village.......
Hey! Who is this old friend passing time in Barracks' village? By the way, The poem is beautiful, though I didnt understand it clearly in this short time, reading it surfacely I enjoyed a lot...
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