Rarely you see them as happy, as carefree or as calm,
Considering the fact they may be, finally, out of harm.
Once you see their gleaming faces, you’re addicted,
“I don’t think I’ll cry” are the words you had predicted.
Young’uns surround the visitors, chanting with pleasure,
Producing decibels as they sing, that were unable to measure.
Growing larger, the crowd of villagers multiplies,
When the four boys sing the noise suddenly subsides.
Black and white, when mixed, creates an insipid grey
But not in this picture, definitely not this day.
Inspired by a red nose, for a laugh, they sung loud-
Using their musical gift with which they are endowed.
Victorious, the song is spread nation wide,
Raising a sum of money and filling their hearts with pride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem