Mother, let us imagine we are travelling,and passing through a strange and dangerous country.

you are Riding in a palanqueen and
I am I am trotting by you on Red horse.
It is evening and the sun goes down.
The waste of Joradighi lies wan and grey before us,
The land is desolate and barren.
You are frightened and thinking,
I know not where we have come to.'
I say to you, 'Mother,do not be afraid.

The meadow is prickly with spiky grass,
and through it runs a narrow broken path.
There are no cattle to be seen in the Wide field;
they have gone to the village stalls.
it grows dark and dim on the land and sky,
and we cannot tell where we are going.
suddenly you call me and ask me now Whisper,
'what light is that near the bank?'

just then their bust out of fear full yell,
and figures come...