How can dreams be willing to intrude
In the sleep where horrow prepares the bed
And misery sets the pillow?
How can the days of laughter be willing to unfold
when each day we teaches with fingers of misery?

How can melodies be found in our rhythm
when we're perfect dancers of wailing beat?

How can pleasure be known
in the land where pain occupys a monarchy seat?
How can the days of joy be willing to intrude
When our nights and days are conterminated by the darkness of our imagination?

To which tune  will we dance
When misery beats and sorrow sounds?

When will we board the plane of progress
When we speed without light?

Except character with good conducts prevails,
Except selflessness and sacrifice hulls greed and selfishness out of our camp
all we hold as a nation will soon come to end.