Dosti

I have a friend in another land many thousands of miles away.
We meet only once a year, and our friendship does not give way.

He lives in a poor village, and I in a house with a grinch,
But our friendship will not be lynched.

Every year, before I leave for his country,
I send him a letter by post, received by him freely,
And each year the letter is received, we meet in a room
That feels more like a vacuum,
But better a vacuum of friendship than one of gloom.

My uncle complains that my friend comes only when I am there,
Yet offers my friend no respect, and thinks my friend is unaware.