Life is not a Bed of Roses,
like full of mud and heavy to carry and walk all long way
Every we think about other, what so ever,
Our prayer for the human being doesn't stop.
Once when we see a highway road,
We walk and walk and walk
When comes tired and thirst
We look for the Water Pot.
Again and again life makes journey
No there is any room for rest
when a new baby born
We come poor or big shot, our prayers doesn't stop.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem