Sweet sweet

On a young man, a sweet, sweet dance

On the tearing, some branches turn red

Some of them have tasted the bitterness of a people

They wanted sweetness in crises, howling

And they listened to the wind of calamities

And they did not reach the middle of the mountain

And they vowed to this poverty a vow

And they paid him the price of worry

So he did not take a bribe while he was planting

A calamity while he was collapsing in distress

And they had appealed to him before with a word

But he does not accept forgiveness

So they did not save any food for this day

And every atmosphere is gloomy the day they revolted

And they revolted, and whoever resolves is decadent

They misused sighing on the day of amusement

They lost their vitality to raise a voice

They came...Nothing remained of them but stuffing

They went out and their condition was the condition of the lost

They were thirsty, so how is the road to death?