The day wake from death, when the morning cocks cries, here life is a good living dead.were even the cloud hustle to make a wonga for a day and stars of the world runing to catch up their pains.the roads very busy that they lament for death, hell busy laughing and dancing when they get their treasurez, because the nature of life is morning call.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem