Oh sons of helpless mothers
Oh mothers of dying children
Oh fathers bury a piece of yourself
In the plains of Eritrea and Ethiopia

I know your pain, I have seen your tears
I know your agony, I have witnessed your pain
Cry and wail for it is your fate
Offered by no one but children of your own

Volcanoes erupt --it is a deed of God
Raindrops fall to fight the fire
Ashes flow to enrich the land...
Is digging a grave for children the work of God?

Life is beauty after the struggles
But is life's beauty just for struggles?

Saleh
Q8