Pyak-Pyak-Pyak
Across the river stands a sesame plant,
its seeds rustling jhur-jhur.
Beneath it, my mother lights
her blessed Lakshmi lamp.
My mother, with matted hair,
is sweeping the house;
my father, old Lord Shiva,
is fixing up the boat;
my brother, Rajyeshwar,
is sinking the water pot—
and there is old Pyakhya Bibi—
pyak-pyak-pyak!
Oh brother, look, look, look!
