Yes we make the pen smile in hope
We spread our thoughts on the river banks
For tourists to see and appreciate
Words were our toys and our teddy.

Our expressions is our poems
The light is the poet who shed it
Farming no we not peoms hung there
We sleep not without a drop of ink.

This is who we are:
The messager of feeling and good or bad
We are the new commer
Coming to you every now and then.