MEMORIES ARE NOTHING,
BUT A SHORT MOVIE,
WHICH NEVER STOPS,
AND RUNS AND RUNS,
TILL THE LAST BREATH AND AFTER IT TOO,
THE DIRECTOR IS GOD,
WHICH CAN'T BE SEEN,
OH ! HOW AMAZING TO SEE,
SUCH A WORLD...
DIFFERENCE IS NOTHING BUT WE MAKE...
OH MY FRIENDS...UNDERSTAND THE OLD MEMORIES...
THEY SURVIVES IN THE GOLDEN RAYS......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem