The surging of the Ayeyarwady
that never ceases its flowing;
The emerald green full of paddy,
paints my heart, and is glowing.
Ngaputaw, the town you live in,
has stolen my heart from me;
A naive heart that's loyal within,
struggling each day to be free.
Here I'm alone without my heart,
and there is no beating inside;
But I must know I'm never apart,
'cause I always feel you beside.
How sweet is your Ayeyarwady!
that my heart refuses to return;
Just keep it away from jeopardy,
it will be yours in the long run.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem