What will be the poem?
I think every day, alone
Talk to myself, I ask myself
What will be the poetry and write?
I used to draw a fast refreshment in fasting food
They were not satisfied, their heart was shouting!
I raised the tone of the lost admiration of adolescence,
Still, Lima, Rimi and Neimonis are laughing!
To get rid of insult debt, poison or rope.
The fury of the rebellion was shrouded in the scripts of poems
Someone did not hear, never seen!
Everybody is ashamed to be confused with the dīghghum.
What will happen and write poetry?
I wonder if the weapon will be hand in hand
Nor is there a foul play of oppression-injustice.
Turn around, all of them
Take away lost rights
Now it's time to go to war.
Do not fall behind in the procession of light
Strengthening tool,
Come back to the birad land and calm down
The faces of the mother face bright when the bright smiles are bright
Finish the wounds of injuries
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