|
|
 |
All these sweeping of streets at dawn
All these run-ins with the mistress Dishwashin', chores of scrubbin' laundry Bearing all these hurt, The master's yelling Babysitting, and Running around to stores umpteen times a day all these, for for you're around the corner for you wait with your rickshaw for you pull your passengers along... all these for that one sweet day, when kicking 'em in their face, you'll take me away, far away, won't you, say you me? (This translation was contributed by Arindam Basu arindam@aol.com ) |
|
| Contact and copyrights: p_editors@hotmail.com |   hits since October 1999 |