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Let us all be roots and shoots in a row,

Sprout in millions from a wet Earth below,

As wet as my mother's womb,

As wet as Kumaon's tomb,

Nourishing every bit of my soul to toe,

So that when I am able I may show,

The seeds for further sprouts to grow.

Hear them sing

Their voices so soft

Your sense in a stroll

Hear them sing

Their voices so soft

Your sense in a stroll

From a very distant far