Trains Poem by basim aloda

An Indian man says:
'Trains are minimized picture of the country',
On the other hand, we say:
Trains are lessened picture of the war'.'
In the most forlorn eves,
I make sit to look closely at trains,
That pass in my head,
Ah,
Along time ago,
I feel them smash the dream of the moment,
And award dryness split lip,

I fond of trains,
I draw them as a circle, that widen,
Squares expend,
All of them are things can be enlarge,
But in the end,
They are narrowing, narrowing,
Until I become throttle,

Reverberations are in its lanes,
No one escapes,
Thus, a passenger said,
The selfsame train,
Bounds for the south.
And when it ended,
We are the most adherence with, sat,
Calculate on the walls number of the lunatics,

A woman says,
How sad that song is!
It was better for us,
Not to be here, near the lamination of the song.