Walked a young man With his shaggy jacket on his shoulders
Among the lips looked dry Tucked into a weed
chewing water coming out of the weeds.
Clearly staring at the clouds The moody face was becoming visible
With an unfocused move Sweat mixed with street dust
tirelessly running.
You are a young scholar Frantically looking for work nobody accepted the vacancy. Rely on your diploma Four years Wrestle with books
for future guarantees Your footsteps stopped In front of the page an answer
Profoundly listened you stepped From the expected office door
Told the word no vacancy For work that is in demand
No matter trying again But the same word you get
Clearly staring at the clouds Gloomy faces increasingly visible
feet began to tire of walking
Wasted everything Half-desperately he said
"sorry mother" is the last word of the struggle that he did.
