Since I live in a foreign place in Maratha
A primordially new dialect
Moulds to us
Even to our tongues
Flourishes Maratha Pungent
Even our blooming too
Rings out Vidarbha Veenas

Only whenever in a mass
Foreigner Ants come face to face
And sing in a whispering crescendo
Their mother-tongue, the songs

CHOUDHURI SUKUMAR

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