Asia was a golden ring that my fathers put it on my finger.
Many years ago they made me get married. They shrouded my daughters.
Asia become a ring of fire. I have to jump through it.
Living was a circus, and it’s men did curl the ring in my ears.
A country where the black boots crushed my destiny under their feet.
They tamed, and uprooted the wild raspberry.
War means pick up your gun, and take aim at my buttons.
The bare, and injured men wore my pieces.
Asia became a ring of a rope that put itself around my neck.
Their gallows tree became my pencil...
Not to say what they did to my country.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What they did to my country? The very question all over the world today. Nice work.