A little baby inhales
fresh air of a male.
From a womb he came,
weak he is, lame.
His mother lulls
a song of fighting bulls,
for him to be a fighter;
strong, profitable in future.
His father hums
a song of Azan,
for him to full with iman;
learned, dutiful to humans.
Sent him to school.
Learnt him knowledge, full.
Completed him with diversity.
Entered him a university.
At the university, in a density,
learnt him how to develop a city;
with all his capacity, he finished with merit.
Full with courage, iman, dutiful and spirit.
In a real life, this fresh graduate,
mingles a dark world with accentuate.
He forgot the song of fighting bulls.
He forgot the azan, his iman is null!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem