Title: वैकल्पिक

Text: My loved one, the rains have come, and you promised that when they did, you'd come too. And now the days are gone: I've counted them one by one on the folds of my fingers till the lines at the joints have blurred and my love has left me pale, my youth grown yellow with age. Singing of Rama, your servant Mira has offered you an offering: her body and her mind. प्रत्येक पराग्राफले परीक्षण हुनेछ।

Save test: यदि तपाईं यो टाइपिङ परीक्षणलाई साझा गर्न चाहानुहुन्छ भने यो प्रयोग गर्नुहोस् (केवल प्रमाणीकृत प्रयोगकर्ताहरूको लागि)।