I place my hat on to the floor
And beg to you my fellow villagers
At your mercy is my lonely Malati
At the pass of Luitel Bhanjyang
I will find and wait at a resting place
Should any of you from this village
Will ever pass the road up there
Daughters and sisters of this village
As you take leave to come or go home
At the festive time of Teej and Tihar
Meet her before you cross this path
The cow Pawali weeps in her shade
The fixed statue has nothing to say
From a basil-shrine in the courtyard
I rather offer flowers on this shrine
It is wise not to spill out any words
For tears will gush like a downpour