The village is small; its history is great
The ooze of water might be small but the tank is vast
The age of this tree must be measured in lives
The shadows of it never wipes away to the wind

The severity of agony is unknown
to the measurement of square yards
The iron kites flying in the space
Can never see the row of ants
Times move here too
The run of river never appears on the surface
Fields are a fistful
But the yielded crop is immense
Walk is slow but the success achieved is tremendous

The cement on the soil covers the skin
And if we say that is the progress, how can it be?
Never measure the ratio of creation with dollars
The village is small but the breath is great
Sunrise is OLD but the STIMULUS is new

Original: N. Gopi (Telugu)
Translation: Swatee Sripada