Been to my native after a long gap of 5 years...
I wondered if the village I'd been to
is an ideal place for a life.
Though there isn't money pouring down,
there's happiness in the people's eyes.
There even might be huts of straw,
and sunlight pierces through the sheet.
But the skies are reflected in the lake,
where heaven and earth meet.
The roads might not be rolled with tar,
but the trains aren't crowded to suffocation.
The men, their agrarian jobs to do,
don't have to hurry in desperation.
Argil being shaped by potters,
look contended as you drive them by.
You remember your life you left just a few days behind,
and the same in a few days to come by.