In a great and powerful language,
Which flows from the mountains in a great stream,
There are many adverbs, and sleeve on sleeve,
Water from the riverbed fills those tributaries.
Let them write the opposite,
Those who have all the letters only sounds,
You take a SIP from the images,
And quench your thirst with water without turbidity.
And feel that the vowels-say,
Consonants all right agree,
Speech comes to life, if you understand,
And hear with your heart, not just your ear...
Once there were twenty-seven vowels,
Beautiful knights, as in the Kingdom of three ninth,
But after the unequal battles there were six of them left,
Under the onslaught of hostile survivors.
Agree - the beauties of epics,
Deep wounds on the knights patched,
So that the living spring does not dry up forever,
To and descendants thirst for quenched.
Though our shores are shallow,
But that river is still deep,
And to clear the riverbed for centuries,
Get down to business and start from the beginning.