Salt

We are a little happy;
What will happen to grief?
Our days are gone
In ordinary rice cloth.

The day is gone for us
Illness lending
The two brothers met at night
I pull on the ganja.

There is no market every day;
If so, either
On the way home
I bought roses

But, where to bury?
What will happen to the flowers?
He is much later.
I pull on the ganja.

We are happy about that;
Tell me, who wants more?
Laughing, playing,
Our days are gone.

Don't let it go sometimes,
Return home at noon
Sit down to eat and get angry,
No salt in cold rice.

Angry at my head,
I climbed on his head
Bapbata two brothers together
I do it all over the place.

What do I do?
We are little people
In our dry rice
Arrange for salt.