White flowers of prajakta (the coral tree) are dropping on our body and we a together singing the chorus on that whirling rhythm. Sun and shade have knitted a beautiful net on the turf under the tree. When the wind flows swiftly, the grass tosses in joy.

The melodious tunes of our song go on flowing far off and bathe in the g goldes yellow sunshine. The whole earth is smiling sweetly and a swing is oscillating on the branches.

Our song is like gentle breeze and twinkling stars. Rain showers through our song, a breeze of wind emanates and charming plumage of peacock blooms through our song, The poet says my children, do bloom like flowers and live in harmony by singing your tunes together. Those who sing are sane and those who do not are foolish. (Hence go on singing ever.)