[اوراق الثريا]

Mother
thought when i grew up thing will ease
infact its gotten worth

Mother i always pray that summer will saty longer
cant bare the rain

And when the spring comes
i close my doors and windows
preventing my eyes from seeing the blooms
.to whom i shell take those flowers mother

Shell i take them to your grave
,no Mother
i hate been lost there
and i hate staying
whatching you sleeping hopelesslly..

Mother look at me
pieces here and there

miss you so much
الثريا