Its Midsummer and I'M a Gujjar-Nomad

I wear around under my arm A villager's- woven shawl. I pipe in a pompous pride, My big beautiful wife is sitting by my side Oh naked! Down to the shoulders and broad chest. Red- hot cheeks and dishevilled curly hair, Is baking breads on stony chola. And with every puff of smoke I'm seeing at my hundred bufaloes herd Spread to the far, Grazing under the cliff there near the meadow's rocky wall And there deep in the grove.