To them,
The sweet flowers are to be sold
The sweetly singing birds to be killed
For they must earn a bit to live
To them, the life is very very cold.
They saw the soft sun in the morn
But day-by-day it turned so hot
Now they must pray, “Oh, the God
Please give me back the kindest dawn”
But, no no! Kind, the earth is not anymore
Tears are always not like pearls
So try to change your painful thoughts,
In a bright world you must explore.
So, please, name ‘Joy’ to all your pains
Give yourself a very bright look
It is very hard, though I know
I see in vision the soothing rains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem