We are so happy people. Because we are the last people sitting in clay houses and listen to fairy stories. We are the last people who played traditional games with their friends on the roofs of childhood. We are the last people who read the novel in the light of Lantern. Those who sent their feelings in their letter to their loved ones. We are the last people who saw the bulls moving. Those who dreamed about the openings. We are the last people who drank water clay. We are the last people who play the lamps by watching Eid moon. Not like us, because we are the last people who wandered in the head and poured them in their eyes and marched in their eyes. We are people who used to play street donda and thought Bobu himself was hanging in the throat. We are the proud people who were happy to have tears in the failed love of Shabnam and Nadim and see Anak Sargodam. We are the best people who made a cartoon ink cartoon. Who considered honor of playing the school bell. We are the happy people who saw the real sweets of the rituals. Nothing like us.
Sometimes they were too late
Everyone used to sleep on the roof
Brick water
Was sprayed
A straw wing
It was also on the terrace
Fighting to fight
That happens
In front of the wing
Who was supposed to be
As soon as the sun comes out
Eye was all open
Still a bit
Everyone was sleeping
She's ever at midnight
What was the rain?
Then also on the next day, please
It was wet
They sleep on the terrace
All were sailed away
The breasts also broke
Relationships were also discarded
People of very beautiful pure relationships were less educated and sincerely. Now, when writing is written, immorality is lost in interests and selfishness.
What a great read, but actually the awakened time has come