Sitting on the window of the lane
The boy does not be seen any more
So when with him
Was last seen.
He was suffering from a difficult illness
No one did not know
He left the world in silence
Filled with the cry of the tears.
He was quite in touch with the conversation
It was with everyone
No matter whether pedestrians, peddlers are going
Whoever have passed the path.
I remember the boy very much, when I pass through this way
Hope one day, the boy will again appear by holding the window.
(Note: From a childhood memory)