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Along  with  their  desolate  fortune,
Old  parents  waiting  for  their  unsparing  children,
Who  leaved  them  in the  barren  garden,
For  the  sake  of  their  ambitions,
They  omit  them  between  the  world,
When  they  needed  love  and  care,
They  gifted  them  with  despair,
Inspite  their  aloofness,
Blear eyes  still  searches  for  them,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,


Every  evening  they  sit  together,
Share  their  griefs  with  each  other,
Collect  their  broken  dreams,
with  lots  of  tears  and  scream,
hold  each  other  hands,
As  they  are  the  passenger  of  the  same land,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,


I  know  that one  day  they  will  sleep,
In  the  lap  of  grave,
But  their sorrows will remain,
Gloom  words  left,
Inconvenient  plaints shout ever and ever,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,


Whole  night  and  the  entire  day,
They  worry  about  them  and  pray,
Old  memories  tease  them,
Tear  their  hearts with a sharp condemn,
With  the  passage  of  time,
Their  wounds  heal,
Time  will not come  back,
But  must  repeats  itself,
It  may  be  possible  that,
After  a  stumble  of  time,
Those  who  rejects heaven  in  the  earth,
Will  be  the  next  passenger,
In  the  cortile  of  old  house,

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