Far away in the valley,
You keep beckoning me;
But in this city--
Of fast moving metro,
Of green trees everywhere,
Of blocked roads during rain,
Of people sleeping on pavements,
Of beauty coming beyond Kargil,
Of poetry in the evening,
Of life rising with opportunities...
I can't utter a word,
You keep beckoning me;
Asking to come,
Whenever we talked.But in this city--
Of fast moving metro,
Of green trees everywhere,
Of blocked roads during rain,
Of people sleeping on pavements,
Of beauty coming beyond Kargil,
Of poetry in the evening,
Of life rising with opportunities...
I can't utter a word,
But hope to see you soon.