I was so upset of firing from the job by my ruthless boss
And I missed the last bus.
I walked towards the dark Railway Station
And I heard a train hoots from a far away.
...
I watched the American Crow on a lamp-post and it's crowing.
The accent and the language both are same as in my native place
And the colour too is the pitch-black.
But it complicates me, why it didn't accept my food which I threw over the ground?
...
Oh! How can I explain my plight?
Violators will be prosecuted the rusty board says.
I pasted my poor scribbling on that oblique board and left alone.
Is there any other place in the world someone who could accepts me cordially?
...
Her name is Girl before she becomes a woman
And she already became a maidservant with her precious children.
The partner goes out, fulfill their desires
And nobody calls again by her previous name.
...
The nightingale of Syrian Arab Republic
Why she is quiet since a long time?
I would like to hear your melancholy songs
From the edge of this world where I stay now.
...
Hey! my young lady
I am in lovelorn
And I found your lost thimble in the darkness
of your premises.
...
I see the fading light of my neighboring Seamstress's room.
The poor widow does embroidery of the mysterious life pattern.
I too have some darn work of my patchy clothes
And I want to borrow a needle and a thread from you.
...
His melancholy song began exceeding its limits.
In those days he used to sing the same old song:
'Why these ears, hey! If they do not hear? '
Old man is crying for help.
...
My yoke fellow who talks about Fall and yellowing of the foliage.
He always carries his untidy diary and there are few blank pages left behind.
He wants me to scribble something on those torn pages.
I write; Hey! Chum you may call it Fall but I pronounce as Autumn.
...