My late Dad, You left me far from your friends.
Later i knew some of them towards the end.
Between me and their kids of my generation there is a range.
But towards the death, the range comes to an end.
Why do we people like revenge, yet life is like a rented lodge?
That's why I'm tired of this cage; life is similar on the bench.
Few advised me to don't care of anything goes.
I'm sorry daddy because i'm coming now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem