Have you seen an old father crying, And even his wife doesn't sympathize with him? Have you heard of an old father flying, And even ants look down on him? Have you ever thought about an old father Who has worked untiringly day and night For his children although they bother, And always say something to have a fight? O' You! Remember! he is still alive, And the only breadwinner of day and night. It's a pity! you know they are blind, And they never look for a bit of sight?
Thinking about thanking a teacher Defines no time and place matrix As long as oxygen makes us breathe; inhale the aroma of fresh ethics.
Either a private or a general at war, We are trained on the terrain of train Of vicissitudes within which teachers reside To insulate its sky against imbecility rain.
You are ,You, I am ,I, No-one is ,You, No-one is ,I, But this time, I am , You, You are ,I. Believe me, I am not telling a lie. Believe me and do not ask me why For, I am shy to tell you, ‘You ‘are ‘I’.
Who born worn buried white and naked! Whose body equals his mind following his heart in line with the tongue Which are altogether still white and naked as it snows!
So, I'm a naked man nothing covers my body but my skin! On the same skin I'm Thinking, Saying, Judging, Granting though naked! The scent of honesty is brimful within me! White born worn, white worn buried!
NOW! Summon your conscience! Reply please!...
Why and how are you killing your corpse beseeching to paint it black, Black and white, grey, yellow, and even a reddish red?! while
Your color is incarcerated within the layers of bluish greenish white soul?! Taken, try not to compel and condemn it to another color! since