Nothing Can Fade Our Bright Future Poem by Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla

Sudan is where the Nile flows into, the current wrangle agitate and dissolution lavish the native land as precursors broil for a ruling.

We are virtuous pure in the salvo, unsure our down the line is filled with murder angst our tears were fallen and our fortunes fuzzy.

The strongest bold women hold the spunky of a war-gashed land, their buried bodies were busted their hearts flared with love of our mud that will not be subdued.

Sudan is the fatherland of kaisers burst by clash, and its glamour inspired the world looks in wonder but doesn't act, if we agonize the rulers will be disturbing.

Conferring wars demolish our coast, backsliding afterward a footpath of pain; it gains the passion for peace stronger and sincere, but it will only come through emotion that's straight happiness.

The streets stain red with the blood of honest people, their lives are stolen, and their destiny is evident; a plant once black now is fruitless and stale of our yowl.

Sudan is the land of hope, we wrangle to find a way to survive our dreams splintered, and our spirits severed; as the war galls on, with endless sightseeing.

Sudan is the land of charm and wonder; the land is gashed by battle, raggedy and disjointed.

The world looks in wonder but does not settle as we are the people of Sudan, tussling to be sightseeing.

Conferring wars demolish our world, backsliding afterward a trail of wound elongated; the passion for peace is fitter than ever, but it will only come through love a true venture.

We are coming up this land contrived to cultivate agile stand on our chastity was lost, our hearts were full of creep as we prove the frenzy besides.

We are the stamina of this nation thrown to bear the burden of havoc; our breath, hearts were frightened with distress as we bemoan for the angel lost in this war.

Sudan is the land of variety and nature, now torn by war ruined and vanished; the world looks in wonder but does not meddle as the people of Sudan strive to be peaceful.

The panorama once lush and green is barren and bleak, war robots the rivulets and streams drain and crack off the people's kismet.

Sudan is the land of wealth; we are all strive to grab a way to be a grace as our dreams are smashed, and our spirits are hurting as the war is furious with no tail in sight.

We are coming up this land with force to grow up agile to obtain a role; our purity was an invisible, our hearts are full of angst as we behold the rampage besides.

Crying for peace is smooth and pure, but it will come through love each other, that's an absolute for a better down road for Sudan.