I have heard the lamentation of the flower, the sad voice of spring,
in the middle of the night
many innocent destitute people
Their darkness has not been erased till date
Looking into the free sky
Today all acceptances are false
Although in this era's guilt, there is a possibility for you here
fear of death for all the unfortunate
the desperate scream of the last wave
Poverty is mixed into his flesh and blood
Seeing one man tremble, the other man remains still
The thunderous aspirations of the heart dancing and acting
But in the sad script of tears
Who says that poetry is written only in words!
Such colors which are not found even in dictionaries, drowning in leaves
They have to be taken to the distant places
There are countless infinite things, where should the dialogue begin?
Showers of questions arise on the land of future resolutions.
Protecting the sound of the temperate core of its existence
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 馃槉馃檹 
