Water moves and its voices
Not like storm's or earthquake's strikes
What will going to happen if the drivers gone insane
For those sweet pots at throne,
Five-years not enough to them
Instead of fifty years
It can be after the time-
Gone and left them,
Instead of those cheers
They will left us wondering in streets
Even if we cry none would remember our drinks
But don't worry fellow the peak of our mountain is volcanic
And the roof of their house can dance for the play of harmonic
As the payment of the those sleep leave us sick
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem