Tribals grow among trees,
Among beasts, birds and bees,
Moors, meads and mountains,
Farms, falls and fountains.
Roots, nuts, fruits and honey...
Everything grows like money;
In love and rearing by Nature,
They've got a caring mother.
Birds sing in sweet refrains,
Plants offer grains and gains,
Flowers bloom with balmy smells -
Roses, lilies and bluebells.
Cool and cozy grass and green,
Water, air, all pure and clean;
Sun, moon, heaven and stars
Touch mangroves, palms, cedars.
Rainy, spring and summer,
Autumn, due and winter;
Nature changes sweetly ever
For their fortune round the year.
There's no rich or poor,
No biases of castes or colors,
No demeanor or dishonor,
All are equal and together.
They are on their means and ways,
They serve themselves nights and days,
They are content with what hours pay,
Virtues they obey and live thereby.
Before they go to sleepy rest,
They revel at the nightly fest
Over gruels of lentils and jawars,
Over country ale and game roosters.
They sing lores and dance to drums
By the side of pugs, pachyderms;
With life pledged in Deity's name,
They've taken their life as a game.
They're happy in own style and term,
In their fort of faith and freedom;
In their arts, crafts, convention,
They live their life no tension.
There's love, truth and beauty,
There's peace, pity and piety,
Courteous are they, honest, humble,
Carefree they live days, nights, all...
- N P SAMAL
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