Yearning

 This I have translated into English from  the original Konkani by a facebooker दिसपट्टीं कवनां

          वेध                                                                                      Yearning
तन्नी हळद तामूस-हडवें                                tender turmeric reddish yellow
वाटो रस्ते आडवे तिडवे                                  paths & roads like the feet of crow
व्होलतां मारीत चलता गाडयो                        meandering the vehicles move
वाऱ्यान धोलता माडआनीमाडयो                   along the swaying betel grove
शेतां दोंगोर भाटां बेसां                                   paddies hillocks estates ranches
गेल्ल्या पीडये s केस्तावां                              disputes spill through lineal branches
धुवो पूत आनि नातू नाती                             sons and daughters and grandchildren
माडाँ s सावल्यो चान्न्या s राती                     shadows of fronds; and the moon-lantern
हजार न्हयो एकलॊ सागर                             a thousand rivers a solitary sea
शेतान नांगर देवळांन जागर                         ploughs in the fields, temple's festive bustle
प्रियोळा मंगेश बांदिवड्यां नागेश                  In Bandivadem Naguesh, in PriyoL Mangesh
सोबीतकायुच गोंयचो भेस                            The very loveliness is Goa's dress
यादी काडून दिस इबाडून                              In missing her I waste my days
जीव रट्टा काळीज फोडून                            My being laments, my heart bursts
उदरगती s वान्सा जाली                               O why I desired egress for progress
भायल्या देसांन पीराय गेली                         this lifetime spent on foreign terrain
म्हातारपणांन आतां खंय ते                         Now that I am young no more
वेध लागल्या गोयच्या भुंयेचे                       to return I long to my native shore
जंय चूड जयळी बापायची                           where my Father's pyre was lit
थंयच कूड जळुं ह्या पाप्याची!                       There, O dig my final resting pit.

Puddle and ditch

We, while on our daily beat, my poodle Pompom and I, bumped into a French woman along Rue de Marin. Perhaps I was staring at her so she approached us and said to me, "Ah! there are puddles in India also!"
I said, "Yes, but not here on the main street perhaps. Walk a little in the interior town and you will see plenty portholes." She quickly protested saying, "Nonono, you don't understand." and pointing to Pompom said,"puddle", and smiled. She asked me what 'his' name was to which I relied,"well, my puddle is a ditch, not a bog ; her name is Pompom!."