This death can't be fair
It has swept the world field
From the villages
The towns and palaces
I hear the voices of mourning

The young children are crying
Their parents have gone a journey
A journey with no return
I wonder who will take care of them
Some have left the breastfeeding
They cry for the best food

This fine morning, I met a little boy
During such a cold moment
Was tending a herd of cattle
I sympathized for what the little boy said
How he lived a painful life

Remember, he had no heavy clothes
To overcome the cold dew,
His parents went at age of two
He kept no little memories
The boy met a wild guardian
Who had no little mercy

Some days the boy slept hungry
While the rest stretched their bellies
Painfully, the boy did a heavy work
Paid by stroke of canes
And a sum of insults

I cursed it
The act of molesting this little angel
May those who do this
Disappear from the face of earth
And rest to wait for the last judgment.