Singing under the collapsed mine.
Singing between the collided rocks.
Singing the song of sorrow.
Trying to get out of a narrow space.
Walking down throw the old farrow.
Only to find a road blocked by a huge boulder.
The dreams are shuttered. The freedom is distracted.
The freedom is restricted.
Disturbed spiritually. Distracted emotionally.
In melancholy at all.
Missing the sky. Where the view is clear.
Missing the mountains. Where the air is very clean.
Where foods are not to die for. Where freedom is unlimited
.
Up the sky below the moon, up the sky above the mountains.
Above the sky is our fountains.to go there is our last wish.
It’s up to the creator
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem