You the bud traveling in the small stream

You the bud traveling in the small stream
Let me follow you
I will run after you
To reach there
I will tread on the thorns
In the thick forests
To follow you
I will make a flute
To expel the road wildness
The night is long
And the road is longer
And the sky lamps have distinguished
And between me and my home
Veins of longing
You bud traveling in the small stream
When the roses wake up on your banks?
And when the thick forest frees the sun rays?
And when the voice of my flute crosses the desert of strangeness?
My mother is waiting
Baking the morning bread and praying
To those left in the years of agony
To come home!

Rate the article
Bad	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	Very good
Result : 32%							Participated in the vote : 4