The crow sat on a wall with a piece of straw,
Keeping a stand-alone in its tail as if her ghoulish mood,
Frightens all the time who closes her;
To embrace the embodied gestures of prey.
The bird looks agitated as if it is starving,
To listen to the whispering voice,
Whoever thinks of offering the logistics,
The paddy, guava and like other hays,
She cannot turn her eyes to clutch,
To have newness in the meadow,
Like gazing and watching the beams.
The bird is the symbol of lustre,
In newness and old unhappy messenger.
She waits for justice, whoever hates her,
To beat her starving debt day by day,
To snatch illusion and high risk.
