Mango Grove
They each had their names,
The mango trees that I climbed,
Asare, Jhutre, and Kali,
Parpane, Lohore, and Pharse.(5)
Waited for seasons to change,
To visit the villa of my sister,
By the banks of Trishuli,
To greet these mango trees.
Sometimes my sister asks,
If I am coming this season,
For mangos are ripe again,
Trishuli is still singing,
In the melody of Cuckoo birds,
The grove is still loaded,
With wild berries and wild grapes,
And they still sing,
In the melody of cicada,
When planting rice seeds,
I still hear the mango grove,
As if calling me to be united again.(5)