Thousands of bowers-
Beautiful, Embellished, Scintillating, Sky Roofing
Yet all those are bricks and sand
Never ever be my naive simple home.
Eynes getting wet, drops of pearls rolling out on cheeks-
Tears they call; Leaving my home to lead my men- Me a soldier
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem