O Sun! O Winter Sun!
At lengthy Ice-cold Night,
We wait for You,
The way the eager eyes of Farmers wait
For the fascinating days of Rice harvest.
O Sun, You do know,
How much shortage of Warm clothes we have!
Burning grain-straws whole night,
Covering ears with a piece of rag,
In what misery, we impede Cold!
A piece of Morning Heat –
Seems costlier than a piece of Gold.
Leaving home, we roam hither thither –
In the thirst of a piece of Heat.
Give warmth and light
In our damp, wet rooms,
And give warmth to
That unclothed boy beside the road.
Give us Heat –
I have heard, You are a Burning Furnace;
Getting heat from you,
One day, may be we all will turn into
Separate burning Furnaces!
Afterward, when our inertness is burnt in that Heat,
Perhaps, then we will be able to cover
That unclothed boy with Warm clothes.
But today we are suppliants of your generous Heat.