My Tamarind Tree, in my neighbour’s place leaned
Flirting leaves curtained my windows green,
Sour tamarinds bumped against the wind,
Spread over the concrete a cover cool
The lonesome tree, the forest here.
Gentle on swaying branches, delicate feet
Winged colours yellow, brown, blue and green
Among the sour tamarinds in the wind,
The song of the seasons the Koel’s note
The lonesome tree, the forest here.
I cried one day, to my neighbour’s place ran
Why? I asked, Is it for money? I will pay.
I begged my neighbour: Let it be. let it be
The sour tamarinds in the wind
The lonesome tree, the forest here.
They killed my tree, they hacked it
Branch by branch, bit by bit,
The sour tamarinds in the wind
Pulled them all to the ground
The lonesome tree, no longer here.
It’s not for money, it’s for free
It’s my tree my neighbour said,
Even the sour tamarinds in the wind,
Lovebirds in cages now my neighbour keeps
The forest green, no longer here.
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