BELLOW...
A poem of a boy from grave-stone of his mother.
I am alone on this stage
to enact this role in the play
while you, my first teacher knocks the door of paradise
here, I am in zeneith of melancholy
why, I have no colleagues in this hell...
I slip into sleep by hearing the lullaby
and my lullaby is the sound of bullets
in this hell, the peace has took up to heaven
and all people became terorrists here...
A multitude of people are working hard
to wash off peace from the society
and makes the blushed children slink in gloom
now children make perannial love towards death
My colleagues had gnawed by absurd people
now i am also getting ready to accept rackings of them
for me and for all,mirth has took up from here
so,I am waiting to knock the door of paradise
to enjoy eternal exuberance and peace...
