It's the greatest way,
The sun shines here at its best,
I know,
You know,
Everybody knows,
But the narrow lane screams in agony,
It thinks otherwise
With its narrow characteristic,
It gets very little sunshine,
The soul of the narrow lane is dark and gloomy,
For this it always thinks in its own way
And that makes all the difference.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem