Alas,that noise that never stop in awhile
With every step as swift as a bullet
Goodluck!to the women that never worry in the sun
Begging and pleading that their goods be bought

Every stall with a rhythm advertising song
That makes you wonder how happy they are?
With clean and ***** wrappers speaking on top voices
Both in winter and harmmatan just to sell their goods

Taking note of every strange sound heard to run at the smell of trouble
At dark time every patronizer goes one after another
Even the lousy women leave their stall too

If life is compared to a moment like this ,then the end will surely come at last.