Oh tin-man stop ringing the tin.
Oh tin man do not wake me up,
from my sweet dream.
Do not jerk me while dream and rest,
with some girls half dressed.
While I'm having drinks of colors and cores.
In this euphoric era.
Oh tin man do not ring the tin,
to wake me from my euphoric sleep.
To tell me that there is a valley 'Kashmir'.
Where people drink their own tears.
Where their diet is shocks and fears.
And bullets for their eyes.
Each day lose their dears.
And scarves of innocent girls are burned.
Not only scarves but whole valley gets burned.
Do not wake me up Tin-man!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem