Zawgyi - Vedaram Poems

There is a way.

In this stream, the water is clear and blue.

I wanted to tie the jasmine to a rope, to tie it to the shore.

In this stream, the water is clear and blue.

I wanted to make a young girl into a young girl, and I wanted to be close to her.

In this stream, the water is clear and blue.

I wanted to build a small pagoda, and I wanted to get close to it.

A lot of light and sound.

The words of the wise man have fallen on deaf ears.

The golden thread of the yutsumayata, the blue of the vedari.

There are rice and rice fields, and this stream, and the road, and the road.

Yangon University Annual Report (1957-1959)

Which village is the port?

A procession along the riverbank

The water of the Veda flower is like a floating flower.

It's a hump on the shore, and a straight line on the shore.

The stream is not flowing.

Riding skills.

The trumpeter blew his trumpet.

He sat down on the bank of the stream, racing the boat.

The board is not strong, the reed handle is cold.

Come with the flow, return with the tide,

I miss the beautiful flower of the moon.

Rice with rice flour.

The little girl, the little girl, the sweet melody.

What city are you from, what village port?

Where the sun is gentle and cool on the beach with blue flowers.

I think I'll sleep..

Yangon University Annual Report (1957-1959)

As if to guess.

Who knows, which village and which camp?

No matter which beach or harbor, it's like sleeping in the sun.

I'm happy if I go here.

The Veda Maw River Crosses

Just rice.

Who knows, which village and which camp?

No matter which beach or harbor, it's like sleeping in the sun.

If this is the case, I'm happy.

Before the sea, the waves were rolling in..

Yangon University Annual Report (1957-1959)

 

Up and down time

The heron's wings are white.

The shore is beautiful.

Let's move to the field to graze.

At the mouth of the sea, below the creek, here it is.

The crab was wet with mud, her whole body red.

Outside the cave

I'm climbing up the tree.

At the seashore in the south

This is a push..

Dragonfly, wings are silver.

A reed on the shoreline suddenly jumped out, and he climbed up here.

It's time to go, rice is coming, my dear.

The reed-like reed-like reed, the

The heron's wings are white.

Crying on the shore

With a crack in his neck

The fish is eating the food again.

This is so cute.

The crab was wet with mud, her whole body red.

A thousand and one inches

You're pretending to be a king in the pit.

This is down.

Dragonfly, wings covered with silver.

He's back at the teahouse, he's here.

This is the time to go, Song is back, you bastard.

With reed leaves, the reed-like reed

I miss you.

Yangon University Annual Report (1957-1959)

It was a policeman.

The wind blows in the river.

A strong wind storm

The waves are booming.

One wave goes out, one wave comes in, and it's like a dream.

With the roar of the waves

In a stormy sea, I am afraid.

Raindrops on the riverbank.

Lightning flies, thunder roars, the king of rain.

The river is not visible due to the rain, and it is raining heavily.

The waves and the rain are crashing down on the water, and I'm afraid.

Don't be afraid or tremble.

Rain and wind are mixed, there is no choice.

It's like rice, it's like rice.

Because I can't fold it.

The strong man was brave in the river.

Yangon University Annual Report (1957-1959)

Just with music.

Titata

Virgo May, sweet blood with golden lips.

The song of the tyrant, the song of the tyrant, the song of the tyrant.

Padesa

The Theravada Buddhism is strong, and the boat is four.

The sound of the reeds, the sound of the drums.

Sandy bottom

The head is shaking, the water is boiling.

The sound of the flute, the sound of the flute.

Dead body

The southern wind rises, the water splashes and splashes.

The reeds are chirping, the sound of weeping is melodious.

Don't help.

With white sails and a floating body.

The sound of the reeds, the sound of the graduation string.

Be polite.

Myay Ngu, Dhani Island, the sand has dried up.

The sound of the flute, the son's sweet melody.

A variety of songs, I can finish them.

It's always a beautiful song, with a beautiful melody.

Yangon University Annual Report (1957-1959)