the  boy was fatherless
the day was the feast
the boy stood beside the wall

he had more sadness
the poor is the worst
he had not money at all

the torn was his appearance
he could not say a word
or buy any valuable

the prophet saw him in clearance
he approached and asked
" why don't you stand beside the wall?"

"Why don't appear the happiness?"
he said, "oh! sir prophet Muhammad
my father was killed at a case

i have no money to buy a  game at all
or buy a new cloth"
the prophet wipe his head

he said," are you accept me to be your father
and my wife be your mother"
the boy smile and his tears were ascended

the prophet took him to the home at speed
he ordered his wife to wash him
and brought him a new cloth and a game

the boy became happy
he thanked the prophet and became gratefully

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.