which doesn't have a nameplate.
There are homes,
Which are built in Rochina and Mari,
where some get a glimpse of their entire Favela,
Having a cup of coffee, sitting by their window.
There are homes in which,
A labourer's better half,
takes off some of his burden,
By entertaining men,
without sharing the bed.
There are homes in those shady hills,
Which are only built on a single foundation,
and that is Love!

Maybe that's the only thing,
which differentiate,
The term house,
And the term, home!

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Along the margin of the city, there was a sensational bay of favelas.

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