The day was as usual long
But in the air something was wrong
Scent of roses everywhere
There was a shade on me even in the glare
...
What is happening
To the lovely and young sapling
These saplings are the truth
Who are the nations youth
...
At every gust the dead leaves fall
From the asleep tree clinging to the wall
The falling tears from it in the form of drips of rain
Obsessed with agony and pain
...